Robert Bike

Robert Bike

Licensed Massage Therapy #5473
Eugene, Oregon


Teaching Reiki Master

Life Coach


Gift Certificates

Private classes.
Biblical Aromatherapy
Therapeutic Essential
Oil Massages
President of the Oregon Massage Therapists Association
& 2012-2013

I graduated from Freeport (Illinois) High School.
I'm a Pretzel!

FHS Reunions

Copyright 2002 - present

Latest Copyright
March 16, 2013


Please help keep
this site free.
Buy one of my books, on sale below.

All sales go to help support this website.

Remarkable Stories,
Volume 1

by Robert Bike

Remarkable events have happened in Freeport and Stephenson County, Illinois, and remarkable people have lived there. These are stories gathered about people and events from 1835 through World War II.

By no means complete, these are overviews of lives and events which shaped our country and our world. From events in the lives of Tutty Baker, Abraham Lincoln, Charles Guiteau, Leonard Colby, Jane Addams and Bob Wienand come stories that will amaze you. Welcome to Volume 1 of our living history.

The author lives in Eugene, Oregon, and works as a Licensed Massage Therapist and Life Coach. An amateur historian, parts of these stories and many more appear on this website.

Buy now! Only 99 cents to download in .pdf format!

Want a paperback? List price $14.99, now only $11.99!

Biblical Aromatherapy

by Robert Bike

The Bible mentions about 232 plants by name, or closely enough to figure out what plant is meant. Of these, 24 are aromatic plants; that is, parts of the plants can be pressed or distilled to get an essential oil. Essential oils are the lifeblood of plants and have tremendous healing capabilities.

The healing power of plants is the basis for modern medicines.

Biblical Aromatherapy
discusses how the plants were used in biblical days and how you can use the essential oils from biblical plants.

Originally published in manuscript form in 1999, I completely revised the book and added illustrations.

To order Biblical Aromatherapy in paperback,
Click here.

List price $24.99; introductory offer $19.99

To order the pdf version and download to your computer or phone,

Click here.

The electronic version is only $2.99!



Olga Carlile, columnist for the Freeport (Illinois) Journal Standard, featured this website in her column on January 19, 2007.
Here is a jpg scan.

Harriet Gustason, another columnist for the Freeport Journal Standard, has featured this website twice. Click to see pdf of articles:
June 29, 2012
November 3, 2012


"My Life Purpose is to inspire my friends
and clients to achieve
success, health,
wealth and happiness
by empowering them
to reach their potential,
while living in harmony
with each other, animals
and our planet."
Robert Bike

Robert Bike, LMT, LLC






Roy Chapman Andrews




Yvette Borup Andrews




Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling . . . let us go.



The object of this book is to present a popular narrative of the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition of the American Museum of Natural History to China in 1916-17. Details of a purely scientific nature have been condensed, or eliminated, and emphasis has been placed upon our experiences with the strange natives and animals of a remote and little known region in the hope that the book will be interesting to the general reader.

The scientific reputation of the Expedition will rest upon the technical reports of its work which will be published in due course by the American Museum of Natural History. To these reports we would refer those readers who desire more complete information concerning the results of our researches. At the time the manuscript of this volume was sent to press the collections were still undergoing preparation and the study of the different groups had just begun.

Although the book has been largely written by the senior author, his collaborator has contributed six chapters marked with her initials; all the illustrations are from her photographs and continual use has been made of her daily journals; she has, moreover, materially assisted in reference work and in numerous other ways.

The information concerning the relationships and distribution of the native tribes of Yün-nan is largely drawn from the excellent reference work by Major H.R. Davies and we have followed his spelling of Chinese names.

Parts of the book have been published as separate articles in the American Museum Journal, Harper's Magazine, and Asia and to the editors of the above publications our acknowledgments are due.

That the Expedition obtained a very large and representative collection of small mammals is owing in a great measure to the efforts of Mr. Edmund Heller, our companion in the field. He worked tirelessly in the care and preservation of the specimens, and the fact that they reached New York in excellent condition is, in itself, the best testimony to the skill and thoroughness with which they were prepared.

Our Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, contributed largely to the success of the Expedition. His faithful and enthusiastic devotion to our interests and his tact and resourcefulness under trying circumstances won our lasting gratitude and affectionate regard.

The nineteen months during which we were in Asia are among the most memorable of our lives and we wish to express our deepest gratitude to the Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History, and especially to President Henry Fairfield Osborn, whose enthusiastic endorsement and loyal support made the Expedition possible. Director F. A. Lucas, Dr. J. A. Allen and Mr. George H. Sherwood were unfailing in furthering our interests, and to them we extend our hearty thanks.

To the following patrons, who by their generous contributions materially assisted in the financing of the Expedition, we wish to acknowledge our great personal indebtedness as well as that of the Museum; Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. Sidney M. Colgate, Messrs. George Bowdoin, Lincoln Ellsworth, James B. Ford, Henry C. Frick, Childs Frick, and Mrs. Adrian Hoffman Joline.

The Expedition received many courtesies while in the field from the following gentlemen, without whose cooperation it would have been impossible to have carried on the work successfully. Their services have been referred to individually in subsequent parts of the book: The Director of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs of the Province of Yün-nan; M. Georges Chemin Dupontès, Director de l'Exploration de la Compagnie Française des Chemins de Fer de l'Indochine et du Yün-nan, Hanoi, Tonking; M. Henry Wilden, Consul de France, Shanghai; M. Kraemer, Consul de France, Hong Kong; Mr. Howard Page, Standard Oil Co., Yün-nan Fu; the Hon. Paul Reinsch, Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary to the Chinese Republic, Mr. J. V. A. McMurray, First Secretary of the American Legation, Peking; Mr. HAG. Evans, British-American Tobacco Co., Hong Kong; the Rev. William Hanna, Ta-li Fu; the Rev. A. Kok, Li-chang Fu; Ralph Grierson, Esq., Teng-yueh; Herbert Goffe, Esq., H. B. M. Consul General, Yün-nan Fu; Messrs. C. R. Kellogg, and H. W. Livingstone, Foochow, China; the General Passenger Agent, Canadian Pacific Railroad Company, Hong Kong; and the Rev. H.R. Caldwell, Yenping, who has read parts of this book in manuscript and who through his criticisms has afforded us the benefit of his long experience in China.

To Miss Agnes F. Molloy and Miss Anna Katherine Berger we wish to express our appreciation of editorial and other assistance during the preparation of the volume.


Lawrence Park,
Bronxville, N. Y.

May 10, 1917.




The Object of the Expedition

The importance of the scientific exploration of Central Asia—The region which the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition investigated—Personnel of the Expedition—Equipment—Applicants for positions upon the Expedition


China in Turmoil

Yuan Shi-kai—Plot to become emperor of China—The Rebellion—Our arrival in Peking—Passports for Fukien Province—Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister—En route to Shanghai—Death of Yuan Shi-kai


Up the Min River

Y. B. A.

Arrival at Foochow—Foochow—We leave for Yen-ping—The Min River—Our first night in a sampan—Miss Mabel Hartford—Brigands at Yuchi—Yen-ping—Trapping at Yen-ping


A Bat Cave in the Big Ravine

The Temple in the Big Ravine—Hunting serow—A bat apartment house


The Yen-Ping Rebellion

A message from Mr. Caldwell—Refugees from Yen-ping—Situation in the city—Fighting on Monday morning—Wounded men at the hospital—We do Red Cross work—More fighting—A Chinese puzzle—The missionaries save the city—The narrow escape of a young Chinese—The mission cook—Return to Foochow


Hunting the Great Invisible

Tiger lairs—Mr. Caldwell's method of hunting—His first tiger—Habits of tigers—Experiences with the Great Invisible—Killing a man eater—Chinese superstitions—Hunting in the lair


The Blue Tiger

Arriving at Lung-tao—The blue tiger—Mr. Caldwell's first view of the beast—The lair in the Long Ravine—Bad luck with the tiger—A meeting in the dark—Ling-suik monastery—Life at the temple—Fukien Province as a collecting ground


The Women of China

Y. B. A.

Schools for girls—Position of women—The Confucian rules—Woman's life in the home—Foot binding—Early marriage—A Chinese wedding


Voyaging to Yün-nan

Outfitting in Hong Kong—Food—Guns—Cameras—En route to Tonking—The Island of Hainan—We engage a cook at Paik-hoi—Arrival in Haiphong—Loss of our Ammunition—Hanoi—The railroad to Yün-nan Fu—Yün-nan—The Chinese Foreign Office endorses our plans


On the Road to Ta-li fu

Our caravan—The Yün-nan pack saddle—Temple camps—Chinese mafus—Roads—Country—Ignorance of a Chinese scholar—New mammals—Village life—Opium growing—An opium scandal—Goitre—The Chinese "Mountain schooner"—Horses—Miss Morgan—Brigands—Our guard of soldiers


Ta-li fu

Hsia-kuan—Summer temperature—Lake—Graves—Pagodas—Mr. H. G. Evans—Foreigners of Ta-li Fu—Chinese mandarins—Mammals at Ta-li—Caravan horses and mules—The cook becomes ill


Li-Chiang, and the "Temple of the Flowers"

Traveling to Li-Chiang—Our entrance into the city—The surprise of the foreigners—The temple—Excellent collecting—Small mammals—The Moso natives—Customs—The Snow Mountain—Baron Haendel-Mazzetti




The earliest remains of primitive man probably will be found somewhere in the vast plateau of Central Asia, north of the Himalayan Mountains. From this region came the successive invasions that poured into Europe from the east, to India from the north, and to China from the west; the migration route to North America led over the Bering Strait and spread fanwise south and southeast to the farthest extremity of South America. The Central Asian plateau at the beginning of the Pleistocene was probably less arid than it is today and there is reason to believe that this general region was not only the distributing center of man but also of many of the forms of mammalian life which are now living in other parts of the world. For instance, our American moose, the wapiti or elk, Rocky Mountain sheep, the so-called mountain goat, and other animals are probably of Central Asian origin.

Doubtless there were many contributing causes to the extensive wanderings of primitive tribes, but as they were primarily hunters, one of the most important must have been the movements of the game upon which they lived. Therefore the study of the early human races is, necessarily, closely connected with, and dependent upon, a knowledge of the Central Asian mammalian life and its distribution. No systematic palaeontological, archaeological, or zoölogical study of this region on a large scale has ever been attempted, and there is no similar area of the inhabited surface of the earth about which so little is known.

The American Museum of Natural History hopes in the near future to conduct extensive explorations in this part of the world along general scientific lines. The country itself and its inhabitants, however, present unusual obstacles to scientific research. Not only is the region one of vast intersecting mountain ranges, the greatest of the earth, but the climate is too cold in winter to permit of continuous work. The people have a natural dislike for foreigners, and the political events of the last half century have not tended to decrease their suspicions.

It is possible to overcome such difficulties, but the plans for extensive research must be carefully prepared. One of the most important steps is the sending out of preliminary expeditions to gain a general knowledge of the natives and fauna and of the conditions to be encountered. For the first reconnaissance, which was intended to be largely a mammalian survey, the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition left New York in March, 1916.

Its destination was Yün-nan, a province in southwestern China. This is one of the least known parts of the Chinese Republic and, because of its southern latitude and high mountain systems, the climate and faunal range is very great. It is about equal in size to the state of California and topographically might be likened to the ocean in a furious gale, for the greater part of its surface has been thrown into vast mountain waves which divide and cross one another in hopeless confusion.

Yün-nan is bordered on the north by Tibet and S'suchuan, on the west by Burma, on the south by Tonking, and on the east by Kwei-chau Province. Faunistically the entire northwestern part of Yün-nan is essentially Tibetan, and the plateaus and mountain peaks range from altitudes of 8,000 feet to 20,000 feet above sea level. In the south and west along the borders of Burma and Tonking, in the low fever-stricken valleys, the climate is that of the mid-tropics, and the native life, as well as the fauna and flora, is of a totally different type from that found in the north.

The natives of Yün-nan are exceptionally interesting. There are about thirty non-Chinese tribes in the province, some of whom, such as the Shans and Lolos, represent the aboriginal inhabitants of China, and it is safe to say that in no similar area of the world is there such a variety of language and dialects as in this region.

Although the main work of the Expedition was to be conducted in Yün-nan, we decided to spend a short time in Fukien Province, China, and endeavor to obtain a specimen of the so-called "blue tiger" which has been seen twice by the Reverend Harry R. Caldwell, a missionary and amateur naturalist, who has done much hunting in the vicinity of Foochow.

The white members of the first Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition included Mr. Edmund Heller, my wife (Yvette Borup Andrews) and myself. A Chinese interpreter, Wu Hung-tao, with five native assistants and ten muleteers, completed the personnel.

Mr. Heller is a collector of wide experience. His early work, which was done in the western United States and the Galápagos Islands, was followed by many years of collecting in Mexico, Alaska, South America, and Africa. He first visited British East Africa with Mr. Carl E. Akeley, next with ex-President Theodore Roosevelt, and again with Mr. Paul J. Rainey. During the Asiatic Zoölogical Expedition Mr. Heller devoted most of his time to the gathering and preparation of small mammals. He joined our party late in July in China.

Mrs. Andrews was the photographer of the Expedition. She had studied photography as an amateur in Germany, France, and Italy, as well as in New York, and had devoted especial attention to the taking of photographs in natural colors. Such work requires infinite care and patience, but the results are well worth the efforts expended.

Wu Hung-tao is a native of Foochow, China, and studied English at the Anglo-Chinese College in that city. He lived for some time in Teng-yueh, Yün-nan, in the employ of Mr. F. W. Carey, Commissioner of Customs, and not only speaks mandarin Chinese but also several native dialects. He acted as interpreter, head "boy," and general field manager. My own work was devoted mainly to the direction of the Expedition and the hunting of big game.

In order to reduce the heavy transportation charges we purchased only such equipment in New York as could not be obtained in Shanghai or Hong Kong. Messrs. Shoverling, Daly & Gales furnished our guns, ammunition, tents, and general camp equipment, and gave excellent satisfaction in attention to the minor details which often assume alarming importance when an expedition is in the field and defects cannot be remedied. All food and commissary supplies were purchased in Hong Kong. (See Chapter IX).

When the announcement of the Expedition was made by the American Museum of Natural History it received wide publicity in America and other parts of the world. Immediately we began to discover how many strange persons make up the great cities of the United States, and we received letters and telegrams from hundreds of people who wished to take part in the Expedition. Men and boys were the principal applicants, but there was no lack of women, many of whom came to the Museum for personal interviews.

Most of the letters were laughable in the extreme. One was from a butcher who thought he might be of great assistance in preparing our specimens, or defending us from savage natives; another young man offered himself to my wife as a personal bodyguard; a third was sure his twenty years' experience as a waiter would fit him for an important position on the Expedition, and numerous women, young and old, wished to become "companions" for my wife in those "drear wastes."

Applicants continued to besiege us wherever we stopped on our way across the continent and in San Francisco until we embarked on the afternoon of March 28 on the S. S. Tenyo Maru for Japan.

Our way across the Pacific was uneventful and as the great vessel drew in toward the wharf in Yokohama she was boarded by the usual crowd of natives. We were standing at the rail when three Japanese approached and, bowing in unison, said, "We are report for leading Japanese newspaper. We wish to know all thing about Chinese animal." Evidently the speech had been rehearsed, for with it their English ended abruptly, and the interview proceeded rather lamely, on my part, in Japanese.

Japan was reveling in the cherry blossom season when we arrived and for a person interested in color photography it was a veritable paradise. We stayed three weeks and regretfully left for Peking by way of Korea. But before we continue with the story of our further travels, we would like briefly to review the political situation in China as a background for our early work in the province of Fukien.



During the time the Expedition was preparing to leave New York, China was in turmoil. Yuan Shi-kai was president of the Republic, but the hope of his heart was to be emperor of China. For twenty years he had plotted for the throne; he had been emperor for one hundred miserable days; and now he was watching, impotently, his dream-castles crumble beneath his feet. Yuan was the strong man of his day, with more power, brains, and personality than any Chinese since Li-Hung Chang. He always had been a factor in his political world. His monarchical dream first took definite form as early as 1901 when he became viceroy of Chi-li, the province in which Peking is situated.

It was then that he began to modernize and get control of the army which is the great basis of political power in China. Properly speaking, there was not, and is not now, a Chinese national army. It is rather a collection of armies, each giving loyalty to a certain general, and he who secures the support of the various commanders controls the destiny of China's four hundred millions of people regardless of his official title.

Yuan was able to bind to himself the majority of the leading generals, and in 1911, when the Manchu dynasty was overthrown, his plots and intrigues began to bear fruit. By crafty juggling of the rebels and Manchus he managed to get himself elected president of the new republic, although he did not for a moment believe in the republican form of government. He was always a monarchist at heart but was perfectly willing to declare himself an ardent republican so long as such a declaration could be used as a stepping stone to the throne which he kept ever as his ultimate goal.

As president he ruled with a high hand. In 1913 there was a rebellion in protest against his official acts but he defeated the rebels, won over more of the older generals, and solidified the army for his own interests, making himself stronger than ever before.

At this time he might well have made a coup d'état and proclaimed himself emperor with hardly a shadow of resistance, but with the hereditary caution of the Chinese he preferred to wait and plot and scheme. He wanted his position to be even more secure and to have it appear that he reluctantly accepted the throne as a patriotic duty at the insistent call of the people.

Yuan's ways for producing the proper public sentiment were typically Chinese but entirely effective, and he was making splendid progress, when in May, 1915, Japan put a spoke in his wheel of fortune by taking advantage of the European war and presenting the historical twenty-one demands, to most of which China agreed.

This delayed his plans only temporarily, and Yuan's agents pushed the work of making him emperor more actively than ever, with the result that the throne was tendered to him by the "unanimous vote of the people." To "save his face" he declined at first but at the second offer he "reluctantly" yielded and on December 12, 1915, became emperor of China.

But his triumph was short-lived, for eight days later tidings of unrest in Yün-nan reached Peking. General Tsai-ao, a former military governor of the province, appeared in Yün-nan Fu, the capital, and, on December 23, sent an ultimatum to Yuan stating that he must repudiate the monarchy and execute all those who had assisted him to gain the throne, otherwise Yün-nan would secede; which it forthwith did on December 25.

Without doubt this rebellion was financed by the Japanese who had intimated to Yuan that the change from a republican form of government would not meet with their approval. The rebellion spread rapidly. On January 21, Kwei-chau Province, which adjoins Yün-nan, seceded, and, on March 13, Kwang-si also announced its independence.

About this time the Museum authorities were becoming somewhat doubtful as to the advisability of proceeding with our Expedition. We had a long talk with Dr. Wellington Koo, the Chinese Minister to the United States, at the Biltmore Hotel in New York. Dr. Koo, while certain that the rebellion would be short-lived, strongly advised us to postpone our expedition until conditions became more settled. He offered to cable Peking for advice, but we, knowing how unwelcome to the government of the harassed Yuan would be a party of foreigners who wished to travel in the disturbed area, gratefully declined and determined to proceed regardless of conditions. We hoped that Yuan would be strong enough to crush this rebellion as he had that of 1913, but day by day, as we anxiously watched the papers, there came reports of other provinces dropping away from his standard.

On the Tenyo Maru we met the Honorable Charles Denby, an ex-American Consul-General at Shanghai and former adviser to Yuan Shi-kai when he was viceroy of Chi-li. Mr. Denby was interested in obtaining a road concession near Peking and was then on his way to see Yuan. His anxiety over the political situation was not less than ours and together we often paced the decks discussing what might happen; but every wireless report told of more desertions to the ranks of the rebels.

It seemed to be the beginning of the end, for Yuan had lost his nerve. He had decided to quit, and one hundred days after he became emperor elect he issued a mandate canceling the monarchy and restoring the republic. But the rebellious provinces were not satisfied and demanded that he get out altogether.

About this time we reached Peking, literally blown in by a tremendous dust storm which seemed an elemental manifestation of the human turmoil within the grim old walls. Our cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval Attaché of the American Legation, was awaiting us on the platform, holding his hat with one hand and wiping the dust from his eyes with the other.

The news we received from him was by no means comforting for in the Legation pessimism reigned supreme. The American Minister, Dr. Reinsch, was not enthusiastic about our going south regardless of conditions, but nevertheless he set about helping us to obtain the necessary visas for our passports.

We wished first to go to Foochow, in Fukien Province, where we were to hunt tiger until Mr. Heller joined us in July for the expedition into Yün-nan. Fukien was still loyal to Yuan, but the strong Japanese influence in this province, which is directly opposite the island of Formosa, was causing considerable uneasiness in Peking.

We were armed with telegrams from Mr. C. R. Kellogg, of the Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay while in Foochow, assuring us that all was quiet in the province, and through the influence of Dr. Reinsch, the Chinese Foreign Office visaed our passports. The huge red stamp which was affixed to them was an amusing example of Chinese "face saving." First came the seal of Yuan's impotent dynasty of Hung Hsien, signifying "Brilliant Prosperity," and directly upon it was placed the stamp of the Chinese Republic. One was almost as legible as the other and thus the Foreign Office saved its face in whichever direction the shifting cards of political destiny should fall.

At a luncheon given by Dr. Reinsch at the Embassy in Peking, we met Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister, who had recently completed an adventurous trip from Germany to China. He was Minister to Mexico at the beginning of the war but had returned to Berlin incognito through England to ask the Kaiser for active sea service. The Emperor was greatly elated over von Hintze's performance and offered him the appointment of Minister to China if he could reach Peking in the same way that he had traveled to Berlin. Von Hintze therefore shipped as supercargo on a Scandinavian tramp steamer and arrived safely at Shanghai, where he assumed all the pomp of a foreign diplomat and proceeded to the capital.

The Americans were in a rather difficult position at this time because of the international complications, and social intercourse was extremely limited. Dinner guests had to be chosen with the greatest care and one was very likely to meet exactly the same people wherever one went.

Peking is a place never to be forgotten by one who has shared its social life. In the midst of one of the most picturesque, most historical, and most romantic cities of the world there is a cosmopolitan community that enjoys itself to the utmost. Its talk is all of horses, polo, racing, shooting, dinners, and dances, with the interesting background of Chinese politics, in which things are never dull. There is always a rebellion of some kind to furnish delightful thrills, and one never can tell when a new political bomb will be projected from the mysterious gates of the Forbidden City.

We spent a week in Peking and regretfully left by rail for Shanghai. En route we passed through Tsinan-fu where the previous night serious fighting had occurred in which Japanese soldiers had joined with the rebels against Yuan's troops. On every side there was evidence of Japan's efforts against him. In the foreign quarter of Shanghai just behind the residence of Mr. Sammons, the American Consul-General, one of Yuan's leading officers had been openly murdered, and Japanese were directly concerned in the plot. We were told that it was very difficult at that time to lease houses in the foreign concession because wealthy Chinese who feared the wrath of one party or the other were eager to pay almost any rent to obtain the protection of that quarter of the city.

A short time later it became known to a few that Yuan was seriously ill. He was suffering from Bright's disease with its consequent weakness, loss of mental alertness, and lack of concentration. French doctors were called in, but Yuan's wives insisted upon treating him with concoctions of their own, and on June 6, shortly after three o'clock in the morning, he died.

Even on his death-bed Yuan endeavored to save his face before the country, and his last words were a reiteration of what he knew no one believed. The story of his death is told in the China Press of June 7, 1916:

According to news from the President's palace the condition of Yuan became critical at three o'clock in the morning. Yuan asked for his old confidential friend, Hsu Shih-chang, who came immediately. On the arrival of Hsu, Yuan was extremely weak, but entirely conscious.

With tears in his eyes, Yuan assured his old friend that he had never had any personal ambition for an emperor's crown; he had been deceived by his entourage over the true state of public opinion and thus had sincerely believed the people wished for the restoration of the monarchy. The desire of the South for his resignation he had not wished to follow for fear that general anarchy would break out all over China. Now that he felt death approaching he asked Hsu to make his last words known to the public.

In the temporary residence of President Li Yuan-hung, situated in the Yung-chan-hu-tung (East City) and formerly owned by Yang Tu, the prominent monarchist, the formal transfer of the power to Li-Yuan-hung took place this morning at ten o'clock. Yuan Chi-jui, Secretary of State and Premier, as well as all the members of the cabinet, Prince Pu Lun as chairman of the State Council, and other high officials were present.

The officials, wearing ceremonial dress, were received by Li-Yuan-hung in the main hall and made three bows to the new president, which were returned by the latter. The same ceremony will take place at two o'clock, when all the high military officials will assemble at the President's residence.

The Cabinet, in a circular telegram has informed all the provinces that Vice-President Li-Yuan-hung, in accordance with the constitution, has become president of the Chinese Republic (Chung-hua-min-kuo) from the seventh instance.

So ended Yuan Shi-kai's great plot to make himself an emperor over four hundred millions of people, a plot which could only have been carried out in China. He failed, and the once valiant warrior died in the humiliation of defeat, leaving thirty-two wives, forty children and his country in political chaos.



Y. B. A.

Three days after leaving Shanghai we arrived at Pagoda Anchorage at the mouth of the Min River, twelve miles from Foochow.

We boarded a launch which threaded its way through a fleet of picturesque fishing vessels, each one of which had a round black and white eye painted on its crescent-shaped bow. When asked the reason for this decoration a Chinese on the launch looked at us rather pityingly for a moment and then said: "No have eye. No can see." How simple and how entirely satisfactory!

The instant the launch touched the shore dozens of coolies swarmed like flies over it, fighting madly for our luggage. One seized a trunk, the other end of which had been appropriated by another man and, in the argument which ensued, each endeavored to deafen the other by his screams. The habit of yelling to enforce command is inherent with the Chinese and appears to be ineradicable. To expostulate in an ordinary tone of voice, pausing to listen to his opponent's reply, seems a psychological impossibility.

There had been a mistake about the date of our arrival at Foochow, and we were two days earlier than we had been expected, so that Mr. C. R. Kellogg, of the Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay, was not on the jetty to meet us. We were at a loss to know where to turn amidst the chaos and confusion until a customs officer took us in charge and, judiciously selecting a competent looking woman from among the screaming multitude, told her to get two sedan chairs and coolies to carry our luggage. She disappeared and ten minutes later the chairs arrived. Dashing about among the crowd in front of us, she chose the baggage for such men as met with her approval and after the usual amount of argument the loads were taken.

We mounted our chairs and started off with apparently all Foochow following us. As far as we could see down the narrow street were the heads and shoulders of our porters. We felt as if we were heading an invading army as, with our thirty-three coolies and sixteen hundred pounds of luggage, we descended upon the homes of people whom we did not know and who were not expecting us. But our sudden arrival did not disturb the Kelloggs and our welcome was typical of the warm hospitality one always finds in the Far East.

No matter how long one has lived in China one remains in a condition of mental suspense unable to decide which is the filthiest city of the Republic. The residents of Foochow boast that for offensiveness to the senses no town can compare with theirs, and although Amoy and several other places dispute this questionable title, we were inclined to grant it unreservedly to Foochow. It is like a medieval city with its narrow, ill-paved streets wandering aimlessly in a hopeless maze. They are usually roofed over so that by no accident can a ray of purifying sun penetrate their dark corners. With no ventilation whatsoever the oppressive air reeks with the odors that rise from the streets and the steaming houses.

In Foochow, as in other cities of China, the narrow alleys are literally choked with every form of industrial obstruction. Countless workmen plant themselves in the tiny passageways with the pigs, children, and dogs, and women bring their quilts to spread upon the stones. There is a common saying that the Chinese do little which is not at some time done on the street.

The foreign residents, including consuls of all nationalities, missionaries, and merchants, live well out of the city on a hilltop. Their houses are built with very high ceilings and bare interiors, and as the occupants seldom go into the city except in a sedan chair and have "punkahs" waving day and night, life is made possible during the intense heat of summer.

A telegram was awaiting us from the Reverend Harry Caldwell, with whom we were to hunt, asking us to come to his station two hundred miles up the river, and we passed two sweltering days repacking our outfit while Mr. Kellogg scoured the country for an English-speaking cook.

One middle-aged gentleman presented himself, but when he learned that we were going "up country," he shook his head with an assumption of great filial devotion and said that he did not think his mother would let him go. Another was afraid the sun might be too hot. Finally on the eve of our departure we engaged a stuttering Chinese who assured us that he was a remarkable cook and exceptionally honest.

If you have never heard a Chinaman stutter you have something to live for, and although we discovered that our cook was a shameless rascal he was worth all he extracted in "squeeze," for whenever he attempted to utter a word we became almost hysterical. He sounded exactly like a worn-out phonograph record buzzing on a single note, and when he finally did manage to articulate, his "pidgin" English in itself was screamingly funny.

One day he came to the sampan proudly displaying a piece of beef and, after a series of vocal gymnastics, eventually succeeded in shouting: "Missie, this meat no belong die-cow. Die-cow not so handsome." Which meant that this particular piece of beef was not from an animal which had died from disease.

The first stage of our trip began before daylight. We rode in four-man sedan chairs, followed by a long procession of heavily laden coolies with our cameras, duffle-sacks, and pack baskets. The road lay through green rice fields between terraced mountains, and we jogged along first on the crest of a hill, then in the valley, passing dilapidated temples with the paint flaking off and picturesque little huts half hidden in the reeds of the winding river. It was a relief to get into the country again after passing down the narrow village streets and to breathe fresh air perfumed with honeysuckle.

A passenger launch makes the trip to Cui-kau at the beginning of the rapids, but it leaves at two o'clock in the morning and is literally crowded to overflowing with evil-smelling Chinese who sprawl over every available inch of deck space, so that even the missionaries strongly advised us against taking it. The passengers not infrequently are pushed off into the water. One of the missionaries witnessed an incident which illustrates in a typical way the total lack of sympathy of the average Chinese.

A coolie on the Cui-kau launch accidentally fell overboard, and although a friend was able to grasp his hand and hold him above the surface, no one offered to help him; the launch continued at full speed, and finally weakening, the poor man loosed his hold and sank. This is by no means an isolated case. Some years ago a foreign steamer was burned on the Yangtze River, and the crowds of watching Chinese did little or nothing to rescue the passengers and crew. Indeed, as fast as they made their way to shore many of them were robbed even of their clothing and some were murdered outright.

Our first day on the Min River was the most luxurious of the entire Expedition, for we were fortunate in obtaining the Standard Oil Company's launch through the kindness of Mr. Livingston, their agent. It was large and roomy, and the trip, which would have been worse than disagreeable on the public boat, was most delightful. The Min is one of the most beautiful rivers of all China with its velvet green mountains rising a thousand feet or more straight up from the water and often terraced to the summits.

Perched on the bow of our boat was a wizened little gentleman with a pigtail wrapped around his head, who said he was a pilot, but as he inquired the channel of everyone who passed and ran us aground a dozen times or more to the tremendous agitation of our captain, we felt that his claim was not entirely justified.

The river life was a fascinating, ever-changing picture. One moment we would pass a sampan so loaded with branches that it seemed like a small island floating down the stream. Next a huge junk with bamboo-ribbed sails projecting at impossible angles drifted by, followed by innumerable smaller crafts, the monotonous chant of the boatmen coming faintly over the water to us as they passed.

When evening came we had reached Cui-kau. The sampans in which we were to spend eight days were drawn up on the beach with twenty or thirty others. Right above us was the straggling town looking very much like the rear view of tenement houses at home. Darkness blotted out the filth of our surroundings but could do nothing to lessen the odors that poured down from the village, and we ate our dinner with little relish.

Our beds were spread in the sampans which we shared in common with the four river men who formed the crew. There was only a mosquito net to screen the end of the boat, but all our surroundings were so strange that this was but a minor detail. As we lay in our cots we could look up at the stars framed in the half oval of the sampan's roof and listen to the sounds of the water life grow fainter and fainter as one by one the river men beached their boats for the night. It seemed only a few minutes later when we were roused by a rush of water, but it was daylight, and the boats had reached the first of the rapids which separated us from Yen-ping, one hundred and twenty miles away.

In the late afternoon we arrived at Chang-hu-fan where Mr. Caldwell stood on the shore waving his hat to us amidst scores of dirty little children and the explosion of countless firecrackers. Wherever we went crackers preceded and followed us—for when a Chinese wishes to register extreme emotion, either of joy or sorrow, its expression always takes the form of firecrackers.

There had been a good deal of persecution of the native Christians in the district, and only recently a band of soldiers had strung up the native pastor by the thumbs and beaten him senseless. He was our host that night and seemed to be a bright, vivacious, little man but quite deaf as a result of his cruel treatment. He never recovered and died a few weeks later. Mr. Caldwell had come to investigate the affair, for the missionaries are invested by the people themselves with a good deal of authority.

We spent that night in the parish house just behind the little church, a bare schoolroom being turned over to us for our use, and it seemed very luxurious after we had set up our cots, tables, chairs, and bath tub; but the house was in the center of the town and the high walls shut out every breath of pure air. The barred windows opened on a street hardly six feet wide, and while we were preparing for bed there was a buzz of subdued whispers outside. We switched on a powerful electric flashlight and there stood at least forty men, women and children gazing at us with rapt attention, but they melted away before the blinding glare like snow in a June sun.

That night was not a pleasant one. The heat was intense, the mosquitoes worse, and every dog and cat in the village seemed to choose our court yard as a dueling ground in which to settle old scores. The climax was reached at four o'clock in the morning, when directly under our windows there came a series of earsplitting squeals followed by a horrible gurgle. The neighbors had chosen that particular spot and hour to kill the family pig, and the entire process which followed of sousing it in hot water and scraping off the hair was accompanied by unceasing chatter. Boiling with rage we dressed and went for a walk, vowing not to spend another night in the place but to sleep in the sampans.

On the whole our river men were nice fellows but they had the love of companionship characteristic of all Chinese and the inherent desire to huddle together as closely as possible wherever they were. On the way up the river to Yuchi every evening they insisted on stopping at some foul-smelling village, and it was difficult to induce them to spend the night away from a town. Moreover, at our stops for luncheon they would invariably ignore a shady spot and choose a sand bank where the sun beat down like a blast furnace.

The Chinese never appear to be affected by the sun and go bareheaded at all seasons of the year, shading their eyes with one hand or a partly opened fan. A fan is the prime requisite, and it is not uncommon to see coolies almost devoid of clothing, dragging a heavy load and with the perspiration streaming from their naked bodies, energetically fanning themselves meanwhile.

Mr. Caldwell was en route to Yuchi, one of his mission stations far up a branch of the Min River, and as there was a vague report of tiger in that vicinity we joined him instead of proceeding directly to Yen-ping. The tiger story was found to be merely a myth, but our trip was made interesting by meeting Miss Mabel Hartford, the only foreign resident of the place. She has lived in Yuchi for two years and at one time did not see a white person for eight months with the exception of Mr. Caldwell who was in the vicinity for three days. It requires four weeks to obtain supplies from Foochow, there is no telegraph, and mails are very irregular, but she enjoys the isolation and is passionately fond of her work.

She has had an interesting life and one not devoid of danger. In 1895 she was wounded and barely escaped death in the Hwa Shan (Flower Mountain) massacre in which ten women and one man were brutally murdered by a mob of fanatic natives known as "Vegetarians." The Chinese Government was required to pay a considerable indemnity to Miss Hartford, which she accepted only under protest and characteristically devoted to missionary work in Kucheng where the massacre occurred.

Conditions at Yuchi when we arrived were most unsettled and for some months there had been a veritable "reign of terror." A large band of brigands was established in the hills not far from the city, and we were warned by the mandarin not to attempt to go farther up the river. A few months earlier several companies of soldiers had been sent from Foochow, and the result of turning loose these ruffians upon the town was to make "the remedy worse than the disease."

The soldiers were continually arresting innocent peasants, accusing them of being brigands or aiding the bandits, and shooting them without a hearing. At one time accurate information concerning the camp of the robbers was received and the soldiers set bravely off, but when within a short distance of the brigands the commanders began to quarrel among themselves, guns were fired, and the bandits escaped. A Chinaman must always "save his face," however, and when they returned to Yuchi they arrested dozens of people on mere suspicion and executed them without the vestige of a trial. Finally conditions became so intolerable that no one was safe, and after repeated complaints by the missionaries, a new mandarin of a somewhat better type was sent to Yuchi.

As it was impossible to do any collecting farther up the river because of the bandits, we left for Yen-ping two days after arriving at Yuchi. Yen-ping is a wonderfully picturesque old city, situated on a hill at a fork of the river and surrounded by high stone walls pierced and loopholed for rifle fire. Such walls, while of little use against artillery, nevertheless offer a formidable obstacle to anything less than field guns as we ourselves were destined to discover.

The Methodist mission compound encloses a considerable area on the very summit of the hill, backed by the city wall, and besides the four dwelling houses, comprises two large schools for boys and girls. Mr. Caldwell's residence commands a wonderful view down the river and in the late afternoon sunlight when the hills are bathed in pink and lavender and purple a more beautiful spot can hardly be imagined.

But the delights of Yen-ping are somewhat tempered by the abominable weather. In summer the heat is almost unbearable and the air is so nearly saturated from continual rain that it is impossible to dry anything except over a fire. From all reports winter must be almost as bad in the opposite extreme for the cold is damp and penetrating; but the early fall is said to be delightful.

The larger part of Fukien, like many other provinces in China, has been denuded of forests, and the groves of pine which remain have all been planted. This deforestation consequently has driven out the game, and except for tigers, leopards, wolves, wild pigs, serows and gorals, none of the large species is left. However, the dense growth of sword grass and the thorny bushes which clothe the hills and choke the ravines give cover to muntjac, or barking deer, and many species of small cats, civets, and other Viverines. These animals come to the rice paddies, which fill every valley, to hunt for frogs and fish, but it is difficult to catch them because of the Chinese who are continually at work in the fields.

We spent a week trapping about Yen-ping and although we caught a good many animals they were almost always stolen together with the traps. We had this same difficulty in Yün-nan as well as in Fukien. None of us had ever seen natives in any part of the world who were such unmitigated thieves as the Chinese of these two provinces. The small mammals are hardly more abundant than the larger ones for the natives wage an unceasing war on those about the rice paddies and have exterminated nearly all but a few widely distributed forms.



A few days after our arrival in Yen-ping we went with Mr. Caldwell and his son Oliver to a Taoist temple seven miles away in a lonely ravine known as Chi-yuen-kang. The walk to the temple in the early morning was delightful. The "bamboo chickens" and francolins were calling all about us and on the way we shot enough for our first day's dinner. Both these birds are abundant in Fukien Province but it is by no means easy to kill them for they live in such thick cover that they can only be flushed with difficulty.

Early in the morning we frequently heard the francolins crowing in the trees or on the top of a hill and when a cock had taken possession of such a spot the intrusion of another was almost sure to cause trouble which only ended when one of them had been driven off.

For two miles and a half the Big Ravine is a narrow cut between perpendicular rock walls thickly clothed to their very summits with bamboo and a tangle of thorny vines. In the bottom of the gorge a mountain torrent foams among huge boulders but becomes a gentle, slow moving stream when it leaves the cool darkness of the canyon to spread itself over the terraced rice fields.

About a mile from the entrance two old temples nestle into the hillside. One stands just over the water, but the other clings to the rock wall three hundred feet above the river, and it was there that we made our camp.

The old priest in charge did not appear especially delighted to see us until I slipped a Mexican dollar into his hand—then it was laughable to see his change of face. The far end of the balcony was given up to us while Mr. Caldwell and Oliver put up their beds at the feet of a grinning idol in the main temple.

We had come to Chi-yuen-kang to hunt serow (see Chapter XVII) and had brought with us only a few traps for small mammals. Harry had seen several serow exhibited for sale on market days in towns along the river, and all were reported to have been killed near this ravine. There was a village of considerable size at the upper end and here we collected a motley lot of beaters with half a dozen dogs to drive the top of a mountain which towered about two thousand five hundred feet above the river.

Never will we forget that climb! We tried to start at daylight but it was well toward six o'clock before we got our men together. A Chinaman would drive an impatient man to apoplexy and an early grave for it is well-nigh impossible to get him started within an hour of the appointed time, and with a half dozen the difficulty is multiplied as many times. Just when you think all is ready and that there can be no possible reason for delaying longer, the whole crowd will disappear suddenly and you discover that they have gone for "chow." Then you know that the end is really in sight, for chow usually is the last thing.

We waited nearly two hours on this particular morning before we started on the long climb to the top of the mountain. The sun was simply blazing, and in fifteen minutes we were soaked with perspiration. When we were half way up the dogs disappeared in a small ravine overgrown with bamboo and sword grass and suddenly broke into a chorus of yelps. They had found a fresh trail and were driving our way.

Harry ran to a narrow opening in the jungle, shouting to us to watch another higher up. We were hardly in position when his rifle banged, followed by such a bedlam of yells and barks that we thought he must have killed nothing less than one of the hunters. Before we reached them Harry appeared, smiling all over, and dragging a muntjac (Muntiacus) by the fore legs. He had just made a beautiful shot, for the clearing he had been watching was not more than ten feet wide and the muntjac flashed across it at full speed. Caldwell fired while it was in midair and his bullet caught the animal at the base of the neck, rolling it over stone dead.

This beautiful little deer in Fukien is hardly larger than a fox. Its antlers are only two or three inches in length and rise from an elongated skin-covered pedicel instead of from the base of the skull as in all other members of the deer family. On each side of the upper jaw is a slender tusk, about two inches long, which projects well beyond the lips and makes a rather formidable weapon.

We hoped that this muntjac was going to prove a "good joss," but instead a disappointing day was in store for us. When we had worked our way to the very summit of the mountain under a merciless sun and over a trail which led through a smothering bamboo jungle, we saw dozens of fresh serow tracks. The animals were there without a doubt and we were on the qui vive with excitement.

We selected positions and the men made a long circuit to drive toward us as Caldwell had directed. After half an hour had passed we heard them yelling as they closed in, but what was our disgust to see them solemnly parading in single file up the bottom of the valley on an open trail and carefully avoiding all thickets where a serow could possibly be. As Harry expressed it, "all the animals had to do was to sit tight and watch the noble procession pass." The beaters very evidently knew nothing whatever about driving nor were we able to teach them, for they seriously objected to leaving the open trails and going into the bush.

We worked hard for serow but the men were hopeless and it was impossible to "still hunt" the animals at that time of the year. The natives say that in September when the mushrooms are abundant in the lower forests the serow leave the mountain tops and thick cover to feed upon the fungus, and that they may be killed without the aid of beaters, but at any time the hunt would involve a vast amount of labor with only a moderate chance of success. After we had left Fukien, Mr. Caldwell purchased a fine male and female serow for us which are especially interesting as they represent a different subspecies (Capricornis sumatrensis argyrochcaetes) from those we killed in Yün-nan.

Chi-yuen-kang did yield us results, however, for we discovered a wonderful bat cave less than a mile from our temple. Its entrance was a low round hole half covered with vegetation, and opening into a high circular gallery; from this three long corridors branched off like fingers from the palm of a giant's hand. The cave was literally alive with bats. There must have been ten thousand and on the first day we killed a hundred, representing seven species and at least four genera. This was especially remarkable as it is unusual to find more than two or three species living together.

The cave was a regular bat apartment house for each corridor was divided by rock partitions into several small rooms in every one of which bats of different species were rearing their families. The young in most instances were only a few days old but were thickly clustered on the walls and ceilings, and each and every one was squeaking at the top of its tiny lungs. The place must have been occupied for scores, if not hundreds, of years for the floor was knee-deep with dung.

When we returned the day after our first visit we found that many of the young bats had been removed by their parents and in some instances entire rooms had been vacated. After the first day the odor of the cave was so nauseating that to enable us to go inside it was necessary to wear gauze pads of iodoform over our noses.

The bats at this place were killed with bamboo switches but later we always used a long gill net which had been especially made in New York. We could hang the net over the entrance to a cave and, when all was ready, send a native into the galleries to stir up the animals. As they flew out they became entangled in the net and could be caught or killed before they were able to get away. It was sometimes possible to catch every specimen in a cavern, and moreover, to secure them in perfect condition without broken skulls or wings.

If a bat escaped from the net it would never again strike it, for the animals are wonderfully accurate in flight and most expert dodgers. Even while in a cave, where hundreds of bats were in the air, they seldom flew against us, although we might often be brushed by their wings; and it was a most difficult thing to hit them with a bamboo switch. Their ability in dodging is without doubt a necessary development of their feeding habits for, with the exception of a few species, bats live exclusively upon insects and catch them in the air.

It is a rather terrifying experience for a girl to sit in a bat cave especially if the light has gone out and she is in utter darkness. Of course she has a cap tightly pulled over her ears, for what girl, even if she be a naturalist's wife, would venture into a den of evil bats with one wisp of hair exposed!

All about is the swish of ghostly wings which brush her face or neck and the air is full of chattering noises like the grinding of hundreds of tiny teeth. Sometimes a soft little body plumps into her lap and if she dares to take her hands from her face long enough to disengage the clinging animal she is liable to receive a vicious bite from teeth as sharp as needles. But, withal, it is good fun, and think how quickly formalin jars or collecting trays can be filled with beautiful specimens!



On Sunday, June 18, we went to the bat cave to obtain a new supply of specimens. Upon our return, just as we were about to sit down to luncheon, four excited Chinese appeared with the following letter from Mr. Caldwell:


There was quite a lively time in the city at an early hour this morning. The rebels have taken Yen-ping and it looks as though there was trouble ahead. Northern soldiers have been sent for and the chances are that either tonight or tomorrow morning there will be quite a battle. Bankhardt, Dr. Trimble and myself have just made a round of the city, visiting the telegraph office, post office and other places, and while we do not believe that the foreigners will be molested, nevertheless it is impossible to tell just what to expect. It is certain, however, that the Consul will order all of us to Foochow if news of the situation reaches there. Owing to the uncertainty, I think you had better come in to Yen-ping so as to be ready for any eventuality.

After talking the situation over with Dr. Trimble and Mr. Bankhardt, we all agreed that the wisest thing is for you to come in immediately. I am sending four burden-bearers for it will be out of the question to find any tomorrow, if trouble occurs tonight. The city gates are closed so you will have to climb up the ladder over the wall behind our compound. Best wishes.


P. S.—Later: It is again reported that Northern soldiers are to arrive tonight. If they do and trouble occurs your only chance is to get to Yen-ping today.

H. C.

The camp immediately was thrown into confusion for Da-Ming, the cook, and the burden-bearers were jabbering excitedly at the top of their voices. The servants began to pack the loads at once and meanwhile we ate a roast chicken faster than good table manners would permit—in fact, we took it in our fingers. We were both delighted at the prospect of some excitement and talked almost as fast as the Chinese.

In just one hour from the time Harry's letter had been received, we were on the way to Yen-ping. It was the hottest part of the day, and we were dripping with perspiration when we left the cool darkness of the ravine and struck across the open valley, which lay shimmering in a furnace-like heat. At the first rest house on the top of the long hill we waited nearly an hour for our bearers who were struggling under the heavy loads.

Three miles farther on a poor woman tottered past us on her peglike feet leaning on the arm of a man. A short distance more and we came to the second rest house. We had been there but a few moments when three panting women, steadying themselves with long staves and barely able to walk on feet not more than four inches long, came up the hill. With them were several men bearing household goods in large bundles and huge red boxes.

The exhausted women sank upon the benches and fanned themselves while the perspiration ran down their flushed faces. They looked so utterly miserable that we told the cook to give them a piece of cake which Mrs. Caldwell had sent us the day before. Their gratitude was pitiful, but, of course, they gave the larger share to the men.

It was not long before other women and children appeared on the hill path, all struggling upward under heavy loads, or tottering along on tightly bound feet. Probably these women had not walked so far in their entire lives, but the fear of the Northern soldiers and what would happen in the city if they took possession had driven them from their homes.

Farther on we had a clear view across the valley where a long line of people was filing up to a temple which nestled into the hillside. Half a mile beyond were two other temples both crowded with refugees and their goods. Hundreds of families were seeking shelter in every little house beside the road and were overflowing into the cowsheds and pigpens.

At six o'clock we stood on the summit of the hill overlooking the city and half an hour later were clambering up the ladder over the high wall of the compound, just behind Dr. Trimble's house. We were wet through and while cooling off heard the story of the morning's fighting. It seemed that a certain element in the city was in cooperation with the representatives of the revolutionary organization. These men wished to obtain possession of Yen-ping and, after the rebellion was well started, to gather forces, march to Foochow, and force the Governor to declare the independence of the province.

The plot had been hatching for several days, but the death of Yuan Shi-kai had somewhat delayed its fruition. Saturday, however, it was known throughout the city that trouble would soon begin. Sunday morning at half past three, a band of one hundred men from Yuchi had marched to Yen-ping where they were received by a delegation of rebels dressed in white who opened to them the east gate of the city. Immediately they began to fire up the streets to intimidate the people and in a short time were in a hot engagement with the seventeen Northern soldiers, some of whom threw away their guns and swam across the river. The remaining city troops were from the province of Hunan and their sympathies were really with the South in the great rebellion. These immediately joined the rebels, where they were received with open arms. It was reported that the tao-tai (district mandarin) had asked for troops from Foochow and that these might be expected at any moment; thus when they arrived a real battle could be expected and it was very likely that the city would be partly destroyed.

We had a picnic supper on the Caldwell's porch and discussed the situation. It was the opinion of all that the foreigners were in no immediate danger, but nevertheless it was considered wise to be prepared, and we decided upon posts for each man if it should become necessary to protect the compound.

Hundreds of people were besieging the missionaries with requests to be allowed to bring their goods and families inside the walls, but these necessarily had to be refused. Had the missionaries allowed the Chinese to bring their valuables inside it would have cost them the right of Consular protection and, moreover, their compound would have been the first to be attacked if looting began.

On Monday morning while we were sitting on the porch of Mr. Caldwell's house preparing some bird skins, there came a sharp crackle of rifle fire and then a roar of shots. Bullets began to whistle over us and we could see puffs of smoke as the deep bang of a black powder gun punctuated the vicious snapping of the high-power rifles. The firing gradually ceased after half an hour and we decided to go down to the city to see what had happened, for, as no Northern troops had appeared, the cause of the fighting was a mystery.

We went first to the mission hospital which lay across a deep ravine and only a few yards from the quarters of the soldiers. At the door of the hospital compound lay a bloody rag, and we found Dr. Trimble in the operating room examining a wounded man who had just been brought in. The fellow had been shot in the abdomen with a 45-caliber lead ball that had gone entirely through him, emerging about three inches to the right of his spine.

From the doctor we got the first real news of the puzzling situation. It appeared that all the men who had arrived Sunday morning from Yuchi to join the Yen-ping rebels were in reality brigands and, to save their own lives, the Hunan soldiers quartered in the city had played a clever trick. They had pretended to join the rebels but at a given signal had turned upon them, killing or capturing almost every one. Although their sympathies were really with the South, the Hunan men knew that the rebels in Yen-ping could not hold the city against the Northern soldiers from Foochow and, by crushing the rebellion themselves, they hoped to avert a bigger fight.

As we could not help the doctor he suggested that we might be of some assistance to the wounded in the city, and with rude crosses of red cloth pinned to our white shirt sleeves we left the hospital, accompanied by four Chinese attendants bearing a stretcher. In the compound we met a chair in which was lying an old man groaning loudly and dripping with blood. Beside him were his wife and several boys. The poor woman was crying quietly and, between her sobs, was offering the wounded man mustard pickles from a small dish in her hand! Poor things, they have so little to eat that they believe food will cure all ills!

The bearers set the chair down as we appeared and lifted the filthy rag which covered a gaping wound in the man's shoulder, over which had been plastered a great mass of cow dung. Just think of the infection, but it was the only remedy they knew!

We took the man upstairs where Dr. Trimble was preparing to operate on the fellow who had been shot in the abdomen. The doctor was working steadily and quietly, making every move count and inspiring his native hospital staff with his own coolness; the way this young missionary handled his cases made us glad that he was an American.

On the way down the hill several soldiers passed us, each carrying four or five rifles and slung about with cartridge belts—plunder stripped from the men who had been killed. A few hundred yards farther on we found two brigands lying dead in a narrow street. The nearest one had fallen on his face and, as we turned him over, we saw that half his head had been blown away; the other was staring upward with wide open eyes on which the flies already were settling in swarms.

There was little use in wasting time over these men who long ago had passed beyond need of our help, and we went on rapidly down the alley to the main thoroughfare. Guided by a small boy, we hurried over the rough stones for fifteen minutes, and suddenly came to a man lying at the side of the street, his head propped on a wooden block. An umbrella once had partly covered him but had fallen away, leaving him unprotected in the broiling sun. His face and a terrible wound in his head were a solid mass of flies, and thousands of insects were crawling over the blood clots on the stones beside him. At first we thought he was dead but soon saw his abdomen move and realized that he was breathing. It did not seem possible that a human being could live under such conditions; and yet the bystanders told us that he had been lying there for thirty hours—he had been shot early the previous morning and it was now three o'clock of the next afternoon.

The man was a poor water-carrier who lived with his wife in the most utter poverty. He had been peering over the city wall when the firing began Sunday morning and was one of the first innocent bystanders to pay the penalty of his curiosity. I asked why he had not been taken to the hospital, and the answer was that his wife was too poor to hire anyone to carry him and he had no friends. So there he lay in the burning sun, gazed at by hundreds of passersby, without one hand being lifted to help him.

Our hospital attendants brushed away the flies, placed him in the stretcher and started up the long hill, followed by the haggard, weeping wife and a curious crowd. On every hand were questions: "Why are these men taking him away?" "What are they going to do with him?" But several educated natives who understood said, "Ing-ai-gidaiie" (A work of love). They got right there a lesson in Christianity which they will not soon forget. It is seldom that Chinese try to help an injured man, for ever present in their minds is the possibility that he may die and that they will be responsible for his burial expenses.

We left the stretcher bearers at the corner of the main street with orders to return as soon as they had deposited the man in the hospital and, under the guidance of a boy, hurried toward the east gate where it was said seven or eight men had been shot. Our guide took us first to a brigand who had been wounded and left to die beside the gutter. The corpse was a horrible sight and with a feeling of deathly nausea we made a hurried examination and walked to the gate at the end of the street.

A dozen soldiers were on guard. We learned from the officer that there were no wounded in the pile of dead just beyond the entrance, so we turned toward the river bank and rapidly patrolled the alleys leading to the tao-tai's yamen (official residence) where the firing had been heaviest. The yamen was crowded with soldiers, and we were informed that the dead had all been removed and that there were no wounded—a grim statement which told its own story.

The yamen is but a short distance from the hospital so we climbed the hill to the compound. The sun was simply blazing and I realized then what the wounded men must have suffered lying in the heat without shelter. We returned to the house and were resting on the upper porch when suddenly, far down the river, we saw the glint of rifle barrels in the sunlight, and with field glasses made out a long line of khaki-clad men winding along the shore trail. At the same time two huge boats filled with soldiers came into view heading for the water gate of the city. These were undoubtedly the Northern troops from Foochow who were expected Monday night.

Even as we looked there came a sudden roar of musketry and a cloud of smoke drifted up from the barracks right below us—then a rattling fusillade of shots. We could see soldiers running along the walls firing at men below and often in our direction. Bullets hummed in the air like angry bees and we rushed for cover, but in a few moments the firing ceased as suddenly as it began.

We were at a loss to know what it all meant and why the troops were firing upon the Northern soldiers whom they wished to placate. It was still a mystery when we sat down to dinner at half past seven, but a few minutes later Mr. Bankhardt rushed in saying that he had just received a note from the tao-tai. The mandarin's personal servant had brought word that the Northern soldiers, who had just entered the city, were going to kill him and he begged the missionaries for assistance. Bankhardt also told us of the latest developments in the situation. It seems that the city soldiers supposed the Northern troops to be brigands and had fired upon them and killed several before they discovered their mistake. A very delicate situation had thus been precipitated, for the Northern commander believed that it was treachery and intended to attack the barracks in the morning and kill every man whom he found with a rifle, as well as all the city officials.

The story of the way in which the missionaries acted as peacemakers, saved the tao-tai, and prevented the slaughter which surely would have taken place in the morning, is too long to be told here, for it was accomplished only after hours of the talk and "face saving" so dear to the heart of the Oriental. Suffice it to say that through the exercise of great tact and a thorough understanding of the Chinese character they were able to settle the matter without bloodshed.

The following day twenty brigands were given a so-called trial, marched off to the west gate, beheaded amid great enthusiasm, and the incident was closed. In the afternoon a messenger called and delivered to each of us an official letter from the commander of the Northern troops thanking us for the part we had played in averting trouble and bringing the matter to a peaceful end.

An interesting sidelight on the affair was received a few days later. A young man, a Christian, who was born in the same town from which a number of the brigands had come, went to his house on Monday night after the fight and found seven of the robbers concealed in his bedroom. He was terrified because if they were discovered he and all his family would be killed for aiding the bandits. He told them they must leave at once, but they pleaded with him to let them stay for they knew there were soldiers at every corner and that it would be impossible to get away.

While he was imploring them to go, a knock sounded at the door. He pushed the brigands into the courtyard, and opened to three soldiers. They said: "We understand you have brigands in your house." He was trembling with fear, but answered, "Come in and see for yourself, if you think so."

The soldiers were satisfied by his frank open manner and, as they knew him to be a good man, did not search the house, but went away. The poor fellow was frightened nearly to death, but as his place was being watched it was impossible for the brigands to leave during the day.

At night they stripped themselves, shaved their heads, and dressed like coolies, and were able to get to the ladder down the city wall just below the mission compound where they could escape into the hills.

The day after this occurrence, about four o'clock in the afternoon, a breathless Chinese appeared at the house with a note to Mr. Bankhardt saying that his Chinese teacher and the mission school cook had been arrested by the Northern soldiers and were to be beheaded in an hour. We hurried to the police office where they were confined and found that not only the two men but three others were in custody.

The mission cook owned a small restaurant under the management of one of his relatives and, while Bankhardt's teacher and the other man were sitting at a table, some Northern soldiers appeared, one of whom owed the restaurant keeper a small amount of money. When asked to pay, the soldier turned upon him and shouted: "You have been assisting the brigands. I saw some of them carrying goods into your house." Thereupon the soldiers arrested everyone in the shop.

The police officials were quite ready to release the teacher and the other man upon our statements, but they would not allow the cook to go. His hands were kept tightly bound and he was chained to a post by the neck. The soldier who arrested him was his sole accuser, but of course, others would appear to uphold him in his charge if it were necessary.

The cook was as innocent as any one of the missionaries, but it required several hours of work and threats of complaint to the government at Foochow to prevent the man from being summarily executed.

We were not able to get any mail from Foochow during the rebellion because the constant stream of Northern soldiers on their way up the river had paralyzed the entire country to such an extent that all the river men had fled.

The soldiers were firing for target practice upon every boat they saw on the river and dozens of men had been killed and then robbed. The Northern commander told us frankly that this could not be prevented, and when we announced that we were going to start will all the missionaries down the river on the following day, he was very much disturbed. He insisted that we have American flags displayed on our boats to prevent being fired upon by the soldiers.

Although it had taken eight days to work our way laboriously through the rapids and up the river from Foochow to Yen-Ping, we covered the same distance down the river in twenty-four hours and had breakfast with Mr. Kellogg at his house the morning after we left Yen-Ping. In two days our equipment was repacked and ready for the trip to Futsing to hunt the blue tiger.



For many years before Mr. Caldwell went to Yen-ping he had been stationed at the city of Futsing, about thirty miles from Foochow. Much of his work consisted of itinerant trips during which he visited the various mission stations under his charge. He almost invariably went on foot from place to place and carried with him a butterfly net and a rifle, so that to so keen a naturalist each day's walk was full of interest.

The country was infested with man-eating tigers, and very often the villagers implored him to rid their neighborhood of some one of the yellow raiders which had been killing their children, pigs, or cattle. During ten years he had killed seven tigers in the Futsing region. He often said that his gun had been just as effective in carrying Christianity to the natives as had his evangelistic work. Although Mr. Caldwell has been especially fortunate and has killed his tigers without ever really hunting them, nevertheless it is a most uncertain sport as we were destined to learn. The tiger is the "Great Invisible"—he is everywhere and nowhere, here today and gone tomorrow. A sportsman in China may get his shot the first day out or he may hunt for weeks without ever seeing a tiger even though they are all about him; and it is this very uncertainty that makes the game all the more fascinating.

The part of Fukien Province about Futsing includes mountains of considerable height, many of which are planted with rice and support a surprising number of Chinese who are grouped in closely connected villages. While the cultivated valleys afford no cover for tiger and the mountain slopes themselves are usually more or less denuded of forest, yet the deep and narrow ravines, choked with sword grass and thorny bramble, offer an impenetrable retreat in which an animal can sleep during the day without fear of being disturbed. It is possible for a man to make his way through these lairs only by means of the paths and tunnels which have been opened by the tigers themselves.

Mr. Caldwell's usual method of hunting was to lead a goat with one or two kids to an open place where they could be fastened just outside the edge of the lair, and then to conceal himself a few feet away. The bleating of the goats would usually bring the tiger into the open where there would be an opportunity for a shot in the late afternoon.

Mr. Caldwell's first experience in hunting tigers was with a shotgun at the village of Lung-tao. His burden-bearers had not arrived with the basket containing his rifle, and as it was already late in the afternoon, he suggested to Da-Da, the Chinese boy who was his constant companion, that they make a preliminary inspection of the lair even though they carried only shotguns loaded with lead slugs about the size of buckshot.

They tethered a goat just outside the edge of the lair and the tiger responded to its bleating almost immediately. Caldwell did not see the animal until it came into the open about fifty yards away and remained in plain view for almost half an hour. The tiger seemed to suspect danger and crouched on the terrace, now and then putting his right foot forward a short distance and drawing it slowly back again. He had approached along a small trail, but before he could reach the goat it was necessary to cross an open space a few yards in width, and to do this the animal flattened himself like a huge striped serpent. His head was extended so that the throat and chin were touching the ground, and there was absolutely no motion of the body other than the hips and shoulders as the beast slid along at an amazingly rapid rate. But at the instant the cat gained the nearest cover it made three flying leaps and landed at the foot of the terrace upon which the goat was tied.

"Just then he saw me," said Mr. Caldwell, "and slowly pushed his great black-barred face over the edge of the grass not fifteen feet away.

"I fired pointblank at his head and neck. He leaped into the air with the blood spurting over the grass, and fell into a heap, but gathered himself and slid down over the terraces. As he went I fired a second load of slugs into his hip. He turned about, slowly climbed the hill parallel with us, and stood looking back at me, his face streaming with blood.

"I was fumbling in my coat trying to find other shells, but before I could reload the gun he walked unsteadily into the lair and lay down. It was already too dark to follow and the next morning a bloody trail showed where he had gone upward into the grass. Later, in the same afternoon, he was found dead by some Chinese more than three miles away."

During his many experiences with the Futsing tigers Mr. Caldwell has learned much about their habits and peculiarities, and some of his observations are given in the following pages.

"The tiger is by instinct a coward when confronted by his greatest enemy—man. Bold and daring as he may be when circumstances are in his favor, he will hurriedly abandon a fresh kill at the first cry of a shepherd boy attending a flock on the mountainside and will always weigh conditions before making an attack. If things do not exactly suit him nothing will tempt him to charge into the open upon what may appear to be an isolated and defenseless goat.

"An experience I had in April, 1910, will illustrate this point. I led a goat into a ravine where a tiger which had been working havoc among the herds of the farmers was said to live. This animal only a few days previous to my hunt had attacked a herd of cows and killed three of them, but on this occasion the beast must have suspected danger and was exceedingly cautious. He advanced under cover along a trail until within one hundred feet of the goat and there stopped to make a survey of the surroundings. Peering into the valley, he saw two men at a distance of five hundred yards or more cutting grass and, after watching intently for a time, the great cat turned and bounded away into the bushes.

"On another occasion this tiger awaited an opportunity to attack a cow which a farmer was using in plowing his field. The man had unhitched his cow and squatted down in the rice paddy to eat his midday meal, when the tiger suddenly rushed from cover and killed the animal only a few yards behind the peasant. This shows how daring a tiger may be when he is able to strike from the rear, and when circumstances seem to favor an attack. I have known tigers to rush at a dog or hog standing inside a Chinese house where there was the usual confusion of such a dwelling, and in almost every instance the victim was killed, although it was not always carried away.

"There is probably no creature in the wilds which shows such a combination of daring strategy and slinking cowardice as the tiger. Often courage fails him after he has secured his victim, and he releases it to dash off into the nearest wood.

"I knew of two Chinese who were deer hunting on a mountainside when a large tiger was routed from his bed. The beast made a rushing attack on the man standing nearest to the path of his retreat, and seizing him by the leg dragged him into the ravine below. Luckily the man succeeded in grasping a small tree whereupon the tiger released his hold, leaving his victim lying upon the ground almost paralyzed with pain and fear.

"A group of men were gathering fuel on the hills near Futsing when a tiger which had been sleeping in the high grass was disturbed. The enraged beast turned upon the peasants, killing two of them instantly and striking another a ripping blow with his paw which sent him lifeless to the terrace below. The beast did not attempt to drag either of its victims into the bush or to attack the other persons near by.

"The strength and vitality of a full grown tiger are amazing. I had occasion to spend the night a short time ago in a place where a tiger had performed some remarkable feats. Just at dusk one of these marauders visited the village and discovered a cow and her six-months-old calf in a pen which had been excavated in the side of a hill and adjoined a house. There was no possible way to enter the enclosure except by a door opening from the main part of the dwelling or to descend from above. The tiger jumped from the roof upon the neck of the heifer, killing it instantly, and the inmates of the house opened the door just in time to see the animal throw the calf out bodily and leap after it himself. I measured the embankment and found that the exact height was twelve and a half feet.

"The same tiger one noon on a foggy day attacked a hog, just back of the village and carried it into the hills. The villagers pursued the beast and overtook it within half a mile. When the hog, which dressed weighed more than two hundred pounds, was found, it had no marks or bruises upon it other than the deep fang wounds in the neck. This is another instance where courage failed a tiger after he had made off with his kill to a safe distance. The Chinese declare that when carrying such a load a tiger never attempts to drag its prey, but throws it across its back and races off at top speed.

"The finest trophy taken from Fukien Province in years I shot in May, 1910. Two days previous to my hunt this tiger had killed and eaten a sixteen-year-old boy. I happened to be in the locality and decided to make an attempt to dispose of the troublesome beast. Obtaining a mother goat with two small kids, I led them into a ravine near where the boy had been killed. The goat was tied to a tree a short distance from the lair, and the kids were concealed in the tall grass well in toward the place where the tiger would probably be. I selected a suitable spot and kneeled down behind a bank of ferns and grass. The fact that one may be stalked by the very beast which one is hunting adds to the excitement and keeps one's nerves on edge. I expected that the tiger would approach stealthily as long as he could not see the goat, as the usual plan of attack, so far as my observation goes, is to creep up under cover as far as possible before rushing into the open. In any case the tiger would be within twenty yards of me before it could be seen.

"For more than two hours I sat perfectly still, alert and waiting, behind the little blind of ferns and grass. There was nothing to break the silence other than the incessant bleating of the goats and the unpleasant rasping call of the mountain jay. I had about given up hope of a shot when suddenly the huge head of the man-eater emerged from the bush, exactly where I had expected he would appear and within fifteen feet of the kids. The back, neck, and head of the beast were in almost the same plane as he moved noiselessly forward.

"I had implicit confidence in the killing power of the gun in my hand, and at the crack of the rifle the huge brute settled forward with hardly a quiver not ten feet from the kids upon which he was about to spring. A second shot was not necessary but was fired as a matter of precaution as the tiger had fallen behind rank grass, and the bullet passed through the shoulder blade lodging in the spine. The beast measured more than nine feet and weighed almost four hundred pounds.

"Upon hearing the shots the villagers swarmed into the ravine, each eager not so much to see their slain tormentor as to gather up the blood. But little attention was paid to the tiger until every available drop was sopped up with rags torn from their clothing, whilst men and children even pulled up the blood-soaked grass. I learned that the blood of a tiger is used for two purposes. A bit of bloodstained cloth is tied about the neck of a child as a preventive against either measles or smallpox, and tiger flesh is eaten for the same purpose. It is also said that if a handkerchief stained with tiger blood is waved in front of an attacking dog the animal will slink away cowed and terrified.

"From the Chinese point of view the skin is not the most valuable part of a tiger. Almost always before a hunt is made, or a trap is built, the villagers burn incense before the temple god, and an agreement is made to the effect that if the enterprise be successful the skin of the beast taken becomes the property of the gods. Thus it happens that in many of the temples handsome tiger-skin robes may be found spread in the chair occupied by the noted 'Duai Uong,' or the god of the land. When a hunt is successful, the flesh and bones are considered of greatest value, and it often happens that a number of cows are killed and their flesh mixed with that of the tiger to be sold at the exorbitant price cheerfully paid for tiger meat. The bones are boiled for a number of days until a gelatin-like product results, and this is believed to be exceptionally efficacious medicine.

"Notwithstanding the danger of still-hunting a tiger in the tangle of its lair, one cannot but feel richly rewarded for the risk when one begins to sum up one's observations. The most interesting result of investigating an oft-frequented lair is concerning the animal's food. That a tiger always devours its prey upon the spot where it is taken or in the adjacent bush is an erroneous idea. This is often true when the kill is too heavy to be carried for a long distance, but it is by no means universally so. Not long ago the remains of a young boy were found in a grave adjacent to a tiger's lair a few miles from Futsing city. No child had been reported missing in the immediate neighborhood and everything indicated that the boy had been brought alive to this spot from a considerable distance. The sides of the grave were besmeared with the blood of the unfortunate victim, indicating that the tiger had tortured it just as a cat plays with a mouse as long as it remains alive.

"In the lair of a tiger there are certain terraces, or places under overhanging trees, which are covered with bones, and are evidently spots to which the animal brings its prey to be devoured. On such a terrace one will find the remains of deer, wild hog, dog, pig, porcupine, pangolin, and other animals both domestic and wild. A fresh kill shows that with its rasp-like tongue the tiger licks off all the hair of its prey before devouring it and the hair will be found in a circle around what remains of the kill. The Chinese often raid a lair in order to gather up the quills of the porcupine and the bony scales of the pangolin which are esteemed for medicinal purposes.

"In addition to the larger animals, tigers feed upon reptiles and frogs which they find among the rice fields. On the night of April 22, 1914, a party of frog catchers were returning from a hunt when the man carrying the load of frogs was attacked by a tiger and killed. The animal made no attempt to drag the man away and it would appear that it was attracted by the croaking of the frogs."

"One often finds trees 'marked' by tigers beside some trail or path in, or adjacent to, a lair. Catlike, the tiger measures its full length upon a tree, standing in a convenient place, and with its powerful claws rips deeply through the bark. This sign is doubly interesting to the sportsman as it not only indicates the presence of a tiger in the immediate vicinity but serves to give an accurate idea as to the size of the beast. The trails leading into a lair often are marked in a different way. In doing this the animal rakes away the grass with a forepaw and gathers it into a pile, but claw prints never appear."



After one has traveled in a Chinese sampan for several days the prospect of a river journey is not very alluring but we had a most agreeable surprise when we sailed out of Foochow in a chartered house boat to hunt the "blue tiger" at Futsing. In fact, we had all the luxury of a private yacht, for our boat contained a large central cabin with a table and chairs and two staterooms and was manned by a captain and crew of six men—all for $1.50 per day!

In the evening we talked of the blue tiger for a long time before we spread our beds on the roof of the boat and went to sleep under the stars. We left the boat shortly after daylight at Daing-nei for the six-mile walk to Lung-tao. To my great surprise the coolies were considerably distressed at the lightness of our loads. In this region they are paid by weight and some of the bearers carry almost incredible burdens. As an example, one of our men came into camp swinging a 125-pound trunk on each end of his pole, laughing and chatting as gayly as though he had not been carrying 250 pounds for six miles under a broiling sun.

Mr. Caldwell's Chinese hunter, Da-Da, lived at Lung-tao and we found his house to be one of several built on the outskirts of a beautiful grove of gum and banyan trees. Although it was exceptionally clean for a Chinese dwelling, we pitched our tents a short distance away. At first we were somewhat doubtful about sleeping outside, but after one night indoors we decided that any risk was preferable to spending another hour in the stifling heat of the house.

It was probable that a tiger would be so suspicious of the white tents that it would not attack us, but nevertheless during the first nights we were rather wakeful and more than once at some strange night sound seized our rifles and flashed the electric lamp into the darkness.

Tigers often come into this village. Only a few hundred yards from our camp site, in 1911, a tiger had rushed into the house of one of the peasants and attempted to steal a child that had fallen asleep at its play under the family table. All was quiet in the house when suddenly the animal dashed through the open door. The Chinese declare that the gods protected the infant, for the beast missed his prey and seizing the leg of the table against which the baby's head was resting, bolted through the door dragging the table into the courtyard.

This was the work of the famous "blue tiger" which we had come to hunt and which had on two occasions been seen by Mr. Caldwell. The first time he heard of this strange beast was in the spring of 1910. The animal was reported as having been seen at various places within an area of a few miles almost simultaneously and so mysterious were its movements that the Chinese declared it was a spirit of the devil. After several unsuccessful hunts Mr. Caldwell finally saw the tiger at close range but as he was armed with only a shotgun it would have been useless to shoot.

His second view of the beast was a few weeks later and in the same place. I will give the story in his own words:

"I selected a spot upon a hilltop and cleared away the grass and ferns with a jackknife for a place to tie the goat. I concealed myself in the bushes ten feet away to await the attack, but the unexpected happened and the tiger approached from the rear.

"When I first saw the beast he was moving stealthily along a little trail just across a shallow ravine. I supposed, of course, that he was trying to locate the goat which was bleating loudly, but to my horror I saw that he was creeping upon two boys who had entered the ravine to cut grass. The huge brute moved along lizard-fashion for a few yards and then cautiously lifted his head above the grass. He was within easy springing distance when I raised my rifle, but instantly I realized that if I wounded the animal the boys would certainly meet a horrible death.

"Tigers are usually afraid of the human voice so instead of firing I stepped from the bushes, yelling and waving my arms. The huge cat, crouched for a spring, drew back, wavered uncertainly for a moment, and then slowly slipped away into the grass. The boys were saved but I had lost the opportunity I had sought for over a year.

"However, I had again seen the animal about which so many strange tales had been told. The markings of the beast are strikingly beautiful. The ground color is of a delicate shade of maltese, changing into light gray-blue on the underparts. The stripes are well defined and like those of the ordinary yellow tiger."

Before I left New York Mr. Caldwell had written me repeatedly urging me to stop at Futsing on the way to Yün-nan to try with him for the blue tiger which was still in the neighborhood. I was decidedly skeptical as to its being a distinct species, but nevertheless it was a most interesting animal and would certainly be well worth getting.

I believed then, and my opinion has since been strengthened, that it is a partially melanistic phase of the ordinary yellow tiger. Black leopards are common in India and the Malay Peninsula and as only a single individual of the blue tiger has been reported the evidence hardly warrants the assumption that it represents a distinct species.

We hunted the animal for five weeks. The brute ranged in the vicinity of two or three villages about seven miles apart, but was seen most frequently near Lung-tao. He was as elusive as a will o' the wisp, killing a dog or goat in one village and by the time we had hurried across the mountains appearing in another spot a few miles away, leaving a trail of terrified natives who flocked to our camp to recount his depredations. He was in truth the "Great Invisible" and it seemed impossible that we should not get him sooner or later, but we never did.

Once we missed him by a hair's breadth through sheer bad luck, and it was only by exercising almost superhuman restraint that we prevented ourselves from doing bodily harm to the three Chinese who ruined our hunt. Every evening for a week we had faithfully taken a goat into the "Long Ravine," for the blue tiger had been seen several times near this lair. On the eighth afternoon we were in the "blind" at three o'clock as usual. We had tied a goat to a tree nearby and her two kids were but a few feet away.

The grass-filled lair lay shimmering in the breathless heat, silent save for the echoes of the bleating goats. Crouched behind the screen of branches, for three long hours we sat in the patchwork shade,—motionless, dripping with perspiration, hardly breathing,—and watched the shadows steal slowly down the narrow ravine.

It was a wild place which seemed to have been cut out of the mountain side with two strokes of a mighty ax and was choked with a tangle of thorny vines and sword grass. Impenetrable as a wall of steel, the only entrance was by the tiger tunnels which drove their twisting way through the murderous growth far in toward its gloomy heart.

The shadows had passed over us and just reached a lone palm tree on the opposite hillside. By that I knew it was six o'clock and in half an hour another day of disappointment would be ended. Suddenly at the left and just below us there came the faintest crunching sound as a loose stone shifted under a heavy weight; then a rustling in the grass. Instantly the captive goat gave a shrill bleat of terror and tugged frantically at the rope which held it to the tree.

At the first sound Harry had breathed in my ear "Get ready, he's coming." I was half kneeling with my heavy .405 Winchester pushed forward and the hammer up. The blood drummed in my ears and my neck muscles ached with the strain but I thanked Heaven that my hands were steady.

Caldwell sat like a graven image, the stock of his little 22 caliber high power Savage nestling against his cheek. Our eyes met for an instant and I knew in that glance that the blue tiger would never make another charge, for if I missed him, Harry wouldn't. For ten minutes we waited and my heart lost a beat when twenty feet away the grass began to move again—but rapidly and up the ravine.

I saw Harry watching the lair with a puzzled look which changed to one of disgust as a chorus of yells sounded across the ravine and three Chinese wood cutters appeared on the opposite slope. They were taking a short cut home, shouting to drive away the tigers—and they had succeeded only too well, for the blue tiger had slipped back to the heart of the lair from whence he had come.

He had been nearly ours and again we had lost him! I felt so badly that I could not even swear and it wasn't the fact that Harry was a missionary which kept me from it, either. Caldwell exclaimed just once, for his disappointment was even more bitter than mine; he had been hunting this same tiger off and on for six years.

It was useless for us to wait longer that evening and we pushed our way through the sword grass to the entrance of the tunnel down which the tiger had come. There in the soft earth were the great footprints where he had crouched at the entrance to take a cautious survey before charging into the open.

As we looked, Harry suddenly turned to me and said: "Roy, let's go into the lair. There is just one chance in a thousand that we may get a shot." Now I must admit that I was not very enthusiastic about that little excursion, but in we went, crawling on our hands and knees up the narrow passage. Every few feet we passed side branches from the main tunnel in any one of which the tiger might easily have been lying in wait and could have killed us as we passed. It was a foolhardy thing to do and I am free to admit that I was scared. It was not long before Harry twisted about and said: "Roy, I haven't lost any tigers in here; let's get out." And out we came faster than we went in.

This was only one of the times when the "Great Invisible" was almost in our hands. A few days later a Chinese found the blue tiger asleep under a rice bank early in the afternoon. Frightened almost to death he ran a mile and a half to our camp only to find that we had left half an hour before for another village where the brute had killed two wild cats early in the morning.

Again, the tiger pushed open the door of a house at daybreak just as the members of the family were getting up, stole a dog from the "heaven's well," dragged it to a hillside and partly devoured it. We were in camp only a mile away and our Chinese hunters found the carcass on a narrow ledge in the sword grass high up on the mountain side. The spot was an impossible one to watch and we set a huge grizzly bear trap which had been carried with us from New York.

It seemed out of the question for any animal to return to the carcass of the dog without getting caught and yet the tiger did it. With his hind quarters on the upper terrace he dropped down, stretched his long neck across the trap, seized the dog which had been wired to a tree and pulled it away. It was evident that he was quite unconscious of the trap for his fore feet had actually been placed upon one of the jaws only two inches from the pan which would have sprung it.

One afternoon we responded to a call from Bui-tao, a village seven miles beyond Lung-tao, where the blue tiger had been seen that day. The natives assured us that the animal continually crossed a hill, thickly clothed with pines and sword grass just above the village and even though it was late when we arrived Harry thought it wise to set the trap that night.

It was pitch dark before we reached the ridge carrying the trap, two lanterns, an electric flash-lamp and a wretched little dog for bait. We had been engaged for about fifteen minutes making a pen for the dog, and Caldwell and I were on our knees over the trap when suddenly a low rumbling growl came from the grass not twenty feet away. We jumped to our feet just as it sounded again, this time ending in a snarl. The tiger had arrived a few moments too early and we were in the rather uncomfortable position of having to return to the village by way of a narrow trail through the jungle. With our rifles ready and the electric lamp cutting a brilliant path in the darkness we walked slowly toward the edge of the sword grass hoping to see the flash of the tiger's eyes, but the beast backed off beyond the range of the light into an impenetrable tangle where we could not follow. Apparently he was frightened by the lantern, for we did not hear him again.

After nearly a month of disappointments such as these Mr. Heller joined us at Bui-tao with Mr. Kellogg. Caldwell thought it advisable to shift camp to the Ling-suik monastery, about twelve miles away, where he had once spent a summer with his family and had killed several tigers. This was within the blue tiger's range and, moreover, had the advantage of offering a better general collecting ground than Bui-tao; thus with Heller to look after the small mammals we could begin to make our time count for something if we did not get the tiger.

Ling-suik is a beautiful temple, or rather series of temples, built into a hillside at the end of a long narrow valley which swells out like a great bowl between bamboo clothed mountains, two thousand feet in height. On his former visit Mr. Caldwell had made friends with the head priest and we were allowed to establish ourselves upon the broad porch of the third and highest building. It was an ideal place for a collecting camp and would have been delightful except for the terrible heat which was rendered doubly disagreeable by the almost continual rain.

The priests who shuffled about the temples were a hard lot. Most of them were fugitives from justice and certainly looked the part, for a more disreputable, diseased and generally undesirable body of men I have never seen.

Our stay at Ling-suik was productive and the temple life interesting. We slept on the porch and each morning, about half an hour before daylight, the measured strokes of a great gong sounded from the temple just below us. Boom—boom—boom—boom it went, then rapidly bang, bang, bang. It was a religious alarm clock to rouse the world.

A little later when the upturned gables and twisted dolphins on the roof had begun to take definite shape in the gray light of the new day, the gong boomed out again, doors creaked, and from their cell-like rooms shuffled the priests to yawn and stretch themselves before the early service. The droning chorus of hoarse voices, swelling in a meaningless half-wild chant, harmonized strangely with the romantic surroundings of the temple and become our daily matin and evensong.

At the first gong we slipped from beneath our mosquito nets and dressed to be ready for the bats which fluttered into the building to hide themselves beneath the tiles and rafters. When daylight had fully come we scattered to the four winds of heaven to inspect traps, hunt barking deer, or collect birds, but gathered again at nine o'clock for breakfast and to deposit our spoil. Caldwell and I always spent the afternoon at the blue tiger's lair but the animal had suddenly shifted his operations back to Lung-tao and did not appear at Ling-suik while we were there.

Our work in Fukien taught us much that may be of help to other naturalists who contemplate a visit to this province. We satisfied ourselves that summer collecting is impracticable, for the heat is so intense and the vegetation so heavy that only meager results can be obtained for the efforts expended. Continual tramping over the mountains in the blazing sun necessarily must have its effect upon the strongest constitution, and even a man like Mr. Caldwell, who has become thoroughly acclimated, is not immune.

Both Caldwell and I lost from fifteen to twenty pounds in weight during the time we hunted the blue tiger and each of us had serious trouble from abscesses. I have never worked in a more trying climate—even that of Borneo and the Dutch East Indies where I collected in 1909-10, was much less debilitating than Fukien in the summer. The average temperature was about 95 degrees in the shade, but the humidity was so high that one felt as though one were wrapped in a wet blanket and even during a six weeks' rainless period the air was saturated with moisture from the sea-winds.

In winter the weather is raw and damp, but collecting then would be vastly easier than in summer, not only on account of climatic conditions, but because much of the vegetation disappears and there is an opportunity for "still hunting."

Trapping for small mammal is especially difficult because of the dense population. The mud dikes and the rice fields usually are covered with tracks of civets, mongooses, and cats which come to hunt frogs or fish, but if a trap is set it either catches a Chinaman or promptly is stolen. Moreover, the small mammals are neither abundant nor varied in number of species, and the larger forms, such as tiger, leopard, wild pig and serow are exceedingly difficult to kill.

While our work in the province was done during an unfavorable season and in only two localities, yet enough was seen of the general conditions to make it certain that a thorough zoölogical study of the region would require considerable time and hard work and that the results, so far as a large collection of mammals is concerned, would not be highly satisfactory. Work in the western part of the province among the Bohea Hills undoubtedly would be more profitable, but even there it would be hardly worth while for an expedition with limited time and money.

Bird life is on a much better footing, but the ornithology of Fukien already has received considerable attention through the collections of Swinhoe, La Touche, Styan, Ricketts, Caldwell and others, and probably not a great number of species remain to be described.

Much work could still be done upon the herpetology of the region, however, and I believe that this branch of zoology would be well worth investigation for reptiles and batrachians are fairly abundant and the natives would rather assist than retard one's efforts.

The language of Fukien is a greater annoyance than in any other of the Chinese coast provinces. The Foochow dialect (which is one of the most difficult to learn) is spoken only within fifty or one hundred miles of the city. At Yen-ping Mr. Caldwell, who speaks "Foochow" perfectly, could not understand a word of the "southern mandarin" which is the language of that region, and near Futsing, where a colony of natives from Amoy have settled, the dialect is unintelligible to one who knows only "Foochow."

Travel in Fukien is an unceasing trial, for transport is entirely by coolies who carry from eighty to one hundred pounds. The men are paid by distance or weight; therefore, when coolies finally have been obtained there is the inevitable wrangling over loads so that from one to two hours are consumed before the party can start.

But the worst of it is that one can never be certain when one's entire outfit will arrive at its new destination. Some men walk much faster than others, some will delay a long time for tea, or may give out altogether if the day be hot, with the result that the last load will arrive perhaps five or six hours after the first one.

As horses are not to be had, if one does not walk the only alternative is to be carried in a mountain chair, which is an uncomfortable, trapeze-like affair and only to be found along the main highways. On the whole, transport by manpower in China is so uncertain and expensive that for a large expedition it forms a grave obstacle to successful work, if time and funds be limited.

On the other hand, servants are cheap and usually good. We employed a very fair cook who received monthly seven dollars Mexican (then about three and one-half dollars gold), and "boys" were hired at from five to seven dollars (Mexican). As none of the servants knew English they could be obtained at much lower wages, but English-speaking cooks usually receive from fifteen to twenty dollars (Mexican) a month.

It was hard to leave Fukien without the blue tiger but we had hunted him unsuccessfully for five weeks and there was other and more important work awaiting us in Yün-nan. It required thirty porters to transport our baggage from the Ling-suik monastery to Daing-nei, twenty-one miles away, where two houseboats were to meet us, and by ten o'clock in the evening we were lying off Pagoda Anchorage awaiting the flood tide to take us to Foochow. We made our beds on the deck house and in the morning opened our eyes to find the boat tied to the wharf at the Custom House on the Bund, and ourselves in full view of all Foochow had it been awake at that hour.

The week of packing and repacking that followed was made easy for us by Claude Kellogg, who acted as our ministering angel. I think there must be a special Providence that watches over wandering naturalists and directs them to such men as Kellogg, for without divine aid they could never be found. When we last saw him, he stood on the stone steps of the water front waving his hat as we slipped away on the tide, to board the S. S. Haitan for Hong Kong.



Y. B. A.

The schools for native girls at Foochow and Yen-ping interested us greatly, even when we first came to China, but we could not appreciate then as we did later the epoch-making step toward civilization of these institutions.

How much the missionaries are able to accomplish from a religious standpoint is a question which we do not wish to discuss, but no one who has ever lived among them can deny that the opening of schools and the diffusing of western knowledge are potent factors in the development of the people. The Chinese were not slow even in the beginning to see the advantages of a foreign education for their boys and now, along the coast at least, some are beginning to make sacrifices for their daughters as well. The Woman's College, which was opened recently in Foochow, is one of the finest buildings of the Republic, and when one sees its bright-faced girls dressed in their quaint little pajama-like garments, it is difficult to realize that outside such schools they are still slaves in mind and body to those iron rules of Confucius which have molded the entire structure of Chinese society for over 2400 years.

The position of women in China today, and the rules which govern the household of every orthodox Chinese, are the direct heritage of Confucianism. The following translation by Professor J. Legge from the Narratives of the Confucian School, chapter 26, is illuminating:

Confucius said: "Man is the representative of heaven and is supreme over all things. Woman yields obedience to the instructions of man and helps to carry out his principles. On this account she can determine nothing of herself and is subject to the rule of the three obediences.

"(1) When young she must obey her father and her elder brother;

"(2) When married, she must obey her husband;

"(3) When her husband is dead she must obey her son.

"She may not think of marrying a second time. No instructions or orders must issue from the harem. Women's business is simply the preparation and supplying of drink and food. Beyond the threshold of her apartments she shall not be known for evil or for good. She may not cross the boundaries of a state to attend a funeral. She may take no steps on her own motive and may come to no conclusion on her own deliberation."

The grounds for divorce as stated by Confucius are:

"(1) Disobedience to her husband's parents;

"(2) Not giving birth to a son;

"(3) Dissolute conduct;

"(4) Jealousy of her husband's attentions (to the other inmates at his harem);

"(5) Talkativeness, and

"(6) Thieving."

A Chinese bride owes implicit obedience to her mother-in-law, and as she is often reared by her husband's family, or else married to him as a mere child, and is under the complete control of his mother for a considerable period of her existence, her life in many instances is one of intolerable misery. There is generally little or no consideration for a girl under the best of circumstances until she becomes the mother of a male child; her condition then improves but she approaches happiness only when she in turn occupies the enviable position of mother-in-law.

It is difficult to imagine a life of greater dreariness and vacuity than that of the average Chinese woman. Owing to her bound feet and resultant helplessness, if she is not obliged to work she rarely stirs from the narrow confinement of her courtyard, and perhaps in her entire life she may not go a mile from the house to which she was brought a bride, except for the periodical visits to her father's home.

It has been aptly said that there are no real homes in China and it is not surprising that, ignored and despised for centuries, the Chinese woman shows no ability to improve the squalor of her surroundings. She passes her life in a dark, smoke-filled dwelling with broken furniture and a mud floor, together with pigs, chickens and babies enjoying a limited sphere of action under the tables and chairs, or in the tumble-down courtyard without. Her work is actually never done and a Chinese bride, bright and attractive at twenty, will be old and faded at thirty.

But without doubt the crowning evil which attends woman's condition in China is foot binding, and nothing can be offered in extenuation of this abominable custom. It is said to have originated one thousand years before the Christian era and has persisted until the present day in spite of the efforts directed against it. The Empress Dowager issued edicts strongly advising its discontinuation, the "Natural Foot Society," which was formed about fifteen years ago, has endeavored to educate public opinion, and the missionaries refuse to admit girls so mutilated to their schools; but nevertheless the reform has made little progress beyond the coast cities. "Precedent" and the fear of not obtaining suitable husbands for their daughters are responsible for the continuation of the evil, and it is estimated that there are still about seventy-four millions of girls and women who are crippled in this way.

The feet are bandaged between the ages of five and seven. The toes are bent under the sole of the foot and after two or three years the heel and instep are so forced together that a dollar can be placed in the cleft; gradually also the lower limbs shrink away until only the bones remain.

The suffering of the children is intense. We often passed through streets full of laughing boys and tiny girls where others, a few years older, were sitting on the doorsteps or curbstones holding their tortured feet and crying bitterly. In some instances outhouses are constructed a considerable distance from the family dwelling where the girls must sleep during their first crippled years in order that their moans may not disturb the other members of the family. The child's only relief is to hang her feet over the edge of the bed in order to stop the circulation and induce numbness, or to seek oblivion from opium.

If the custom were a fad which affected only the wealthy classes it would be reprehensible enough, but it curses rich and poor alike, and almost every day we saw heavily laden coolie women steadying themselves by means of a staff, hobbling stiff-kneed along the roads or laboring in the fields.

Although the agitation against foot binding is undoubtedly making itself felt to a certain extent in the coast provinces, in Yün-nan the horrible practice continues unabated. During the year in which we traveled through a large part of the province, wherever there were Chinese we saw bound feet. And the fact that virtually every girl over eight years old was mutilated in this way is satisfactory evidence that reform ideas have not penetrated to this remote part of the Republic.

I know of nothing which so rouses one's indignation because of its senselessness and brutality, and China can never hope to take her place among civilized nations until she has abandoned this barbarous custom and liberated her women from their infamous subjection.

There has been much criticism of foreign education because the girls who have had its advantages absorb western ideas so completely that they dislike to return to their homes where the ordinary conditions of a Chinese household exist. Nevertheless, if the women of China are ever to be emancipated it must come through their own education as well as that of the men.

One of the first results of foreign influence is to delay marriage, and in some instances the early betrothal with its attendant miseries. The evil which results from this custom can hardly be overestimated. It happens not infrequently that two children are betrothed in infancy, the respective families being in like circumstances at the time. The opportunity perhaps is offered to the girl to attend school and she may even go through college, but an inexorable custom brings her back to her parents' home, forces her to submit to the engagement made in babyhood and perhaps ruins her life through marriage with a man of no higher social status or intelligence than a coolie.

Among the few girls imbued with western civilization a spirit of revolt is slowly growing, and while it is impossible for them to break down the barriers of ages, yet in many instances they waive aside what would seem an unsurmountable precedent and insist upon having some voice in the choosing of their husbands.

While in Yen-ping we were invited to attend the semi-foreign wedding of a girl who had been brought up in the Woman's School and who was qualified to be a "Bible Woman" or native Christian teacher. It was whispered that she had actually met her betrothed on several occasions, but on their wedding day no trace of recognition was visible, and the marriage was performed with all the punctilious Chinese observances compatible with a Christian ceremony.

Precedent required of this little bride, although she might have been radiantly happy at heart, and undoubtedly was, to appear tearful and shrinking and as she was escorted up the aisle by her bridesmaid one might have thought she was being led to slaughter. White is not becoming to the Chinese and besides it is a sign of mourning, so she had chosen pink for her wedding gown and had a brilliant pink veil over her carefully oiled hair.

After the ceremony the bride and bridegroom proceeded downstairs to the joyous strain of the wedding march, but with nothing joyous in their demeanor—in fact they appeared like two wooden images at the reception and endured for over an hour the stares and loud criticism of the guests. He assumed during the ordeal a look of bored indifference while the little bride sat with her head bowed on her breast, apparently terror stricken. But once she raised her face and I saw a merry twinkle in her shining black eyes that made me realize that perhaps it wasn't all quite so frightful as she would have us believe. I often wonder what sort of a life she is leading in her far away Chinese courtyard.



We had a busy week in Hong Kong outfitting for our trip to Yün-nan. Hong Kong is one of the best cities in the Orient in which to purchase supplies of almost any kind, for not only is the selection excellent, but the best English goods can be had for prices very little in excess of those in London itself.

The system which we used in our commissary was that of the unit food box which has been adopted by most large expeditions. The boxes were packed to weigh seventy pounds each and contained all the necessary staple supplies for three persons for one week; thus only one box needed to be opened at a time, and, moreover, if the party separated for a few days a single box could be taken without the necessity of repacking and with the assurance that sufficient food would be available.

Our supplies consisted largely of flour, butter, sugar, coffee, milk, bacon, and marmalade, and but little tinned meat, vegetables, or fruit because we were certain to be able to obtain a plentiful supply of such food in the country through which we were expecting to travel.

Our tents were brought from New York and were made of light Egyptian cotton thoroughly waterproof, but we also purchased in Hong Kong a large army tent for the servants and two canvas flies to protect loads and specimens. We used sleeping bags and folding cots, tables and chairs, for when an expedition expects to remain in the field for a long time it is absolutely necessary to be as comfortable as possible and to live well; otherwise one cannot work at one's highest efficiency.

For clothing we all wore khaki or "Dux-back" suits with flannel shirts and high leather shoes for mountain climbing, and we had light rubber automobile shirts and rubber caps for use in rainy weather. The auto shirt is a long, loose robe which slips over the head and fastens about the neck and, when one is sitting upon a horse, can be so spread about as to cover all exposed parts of the body; it is especially useful and necessary, and hip rubber boots are also very comfortable during the rainy season.

Our traps for catching small mammals were brought from New York. We had two sizes of wooden "Out of Sight" for mice and rats, and four or five sizes of Oneida steel traps for catching medium sized animals such as civets and polecats. We also carried a half dozen No. 5 wolf traps. Mr. Heller had used this size in Africa and found that they were large enough even to hold lions.

Mr. Heller carried a 250-300 Savage rifle, while I used a 6-1/2 mm. Mannlicher and a .405 Winchester. All of these guns were eminently satisfactory, but the choice of a rifle is a very personal matter and every sportsman has his favorite weapon. We found, however, that a flat trajectory high-power rifle such as those with which we were armed was absolutely essential for many of our shots were at long range and we frequently killed gorals at three hundred yards or over.

The camera equipment consisted of two 3A Kodaks, a Graphic 4 × 5 tripod camera, and Graflex 4 × 5 for rapid work. We have found after considerable field experience that the 4 × 5 is the most convenient size to handle, for the plate is large enough and can be obtained more readily than any other in different parts of the world. The same applies to the 3A Kodak "postcard" size film, for there are few places where foreign goods are carried that 3A films cannot be purchased.

All of our plates and films were sealed in airtight tin boxes before we left America, and thus the material was in perfect condition when the cans were opened. We used plates almost altogether in the finer photographic work, for although they are heavier and more difficult to handle than films, nevertheless the results obtained are very superior. A collapsible rubber dark room about seven feet high and four feet in diameter was an indispensable part of the camera equipment. This tent was made for us by the Abercrombie & Fitch Company, of New York, and could be hung from the limb of a tree or the rafters of a building and be ready for use in five minutes.

The motion pictures were taken with a Universal camera, and like all other negatives were developed in the field by means of a special apparatus which had been designed by Mr. Carl Akeley of the American Museum of Natural History. This work required a much larger space than that of the portable dark room and we consequently had a tent made of red cloth which could be tied inside of our ordinary sleeping tent.

Our equipment was packed in fiber army trunks and in wooden boxes with sliding tops. The latter arrangement is especially desirable in Yün-nan, for the loads can be opened without being untied from the saddle, thus saving a considerable amount of time and trouble.

It was by no means an easy matter to get our supplies together, but the Lane & Crawford Company of Hong Kong pushed the making and packing of our boxes in a remarkably efficient manner; as the manager of one of their departments expressed it, "the one way to hurry a Chinaman is to get more Chinamen," and they put a small army at work upon our material, which was ready for shipment in just a week.

While in Hong Kong we were joined by Wu Hung-tao, of Shanghai, who acted as interpreter and "head boy" as well as a general field manager of the expedition. He formerly had been in the employ of Mr. F. W. Gary, when the latter was Commissioner of Customs in Teng-yueh, Yün-nan, and he was educated at the Anglo-Chinese College of Foochow. Wu proved to be the most efficient and trustworthy servant whom we have ever employed, and the success of our work was due in no small degree to his efforts.

We left for Tonking on the S. S. Sung-kiang, commanded by Harry Trowbridge, a congenial and well-read gentleman whose delightful personality contributed much toward making our week's stay on his ship most pleasant. On our way to Haiphong the vessel stopped at the island of Hainan and anchored about three miles off the town of Hoi-hau. This island is 90 by 150 miles long, is mountainous in its center, but flat and uninteresting at the northwest.

A large part of the island is unexplored and in the interior there is a mountain called "the Five Fingers" which has never been ascended, for it is reported that the hill tribes are unfriendly and that the tropical valleys are reeking with deadly malaria. The island undoubtedly would prove to be a rich field for zoölogical work as is shown by the collections which the American Museum of Natural History has already received from a native dealer; these include monkeys, squirrels, and other small mammals, and bears, leopards, and deer are said to be among its fauna.

The next night's steaming brought us to the city of Paik-hoi on the mainland. In the afternoon we went ashore with Captain Trowbridge to visit Dr. Bradley of the China Inland Mission who is in charge of a leper hospital, which is a model of its kind. The doctor was away but we made ourselves at home and when he returned he found us in his drawing room comfortably enjoying afternoon tea. He remarked that he knew of a Chinese cook who was looking for a position, and half an hour later, while we were watching some remarkably fine tennis, the cook arrived. He was about six feet two inches high, and so thin that he was immediately christened the "Woolworth Building" and, although not a very prepossessing looking individual he was forthwith engaged, principally because of his ability to speak English. This was at six o'clock in the afternoon and we had to be aboard the ship at eight. The doctor sent a note to the French Consul and the cook returned anon with his baggage and passport. Obtaining this cook was the only really rapid thing which I have ever seen done in China!

When the Sung-kiang arrived in Haiphong the next afternoon we were besieged by a screaming, fighting mob of Annamits who seized upon our baggage like so many vultures, and it was only by means of a few well-directed kicks that we could prevent it from being scattered to the four winds of Heaven. After we had designated a sampan to receive our equipment the unloading began and several trunks had gone over the side, when Mr. Heller happened to glance down just in time to see one of the ammunition boxes drop into the water and sink like lead. The Annamits, believing that it had not been noticed, went on as blithely as before and volubly denied that anything had been lost. We stopped the unloading instantly and sent for divers. The box had sunk in thirty feet of muddy water and it seemed useless to hope that it could ever be recovered, but the divers went to work by dropping a heavy stone on the end of a rope and going down it hand over hand.

After two hours the box was located and brought dripping to the surface. Fortunately but little of the ammunition was ruined, and most of it was dried during the night in the engine room. Because of this delay we had to leave Haiphong on the following day, and with Captain Trowbridge, we went by train to Hanoi, the capital of the colony.

Hanoi is a city of delightful surprises. It has broad, clean streets, overhung with trees which often form a cool green canopy overhead, beautiful lawns and well-kept houses, and in the center of the town is a lovely lake surrounded by a wide border of palms. At the far end, like a jewel in a crystal setting, seems to float a white pagoda, an outpost of the temple which stands in the midst of a watery meadow of lotus plants. The city shops are excellent, but in most instances the prices are exceedingly high.

Like all the French towns in the Orient the hours for work are rather confusing to the foreigner. The shops open at 6:30 in the morning and close at 11 o'clock to reopen again at 3 in the afternoon and continue business until 7:30 or 8 o'clock in the evening. During the middle of the day all houses have the shutters closely drawn, and because of the intense heat and glare of the sun the streets are absolutely deserted, not even a native being visible. In the morning a petit déjeuner, remarkable especially for its "petiteness," is served, and a real déjeuner comes later anywhere from 10 to 12:30.

About 6 o'clock in the evening the open cafés and restaurants along the sidewalk are lined with groups of men and women playing cards and dice and drinking gin and bitters, vermouth or absinthe. There is an air of happiness and life about Hanoi which is typically Parisian and even during war time it is a city of gayety. An immense theater stands in the center of the town, but has not been opened since the beginning of the war.

We had letters to M. Chemein Dupontés, the director of the railroads, as well as to the Lieutenant-Governor and other officials. Without exception we were received in the most cordial manner and every facility and convenience put at our disposal. M. Dupontés was especially helpful.

Some time before our arrival a tunnel on the railroad from Hanoi to Yün-nan Fu had caved in and for almost a month trains had not been running. It was now in operation, however, but all luggage had to be transferred by hand at the broken tunnel and consequently must not exceed eighty-five pounds in weight. This meant repacking our entire equipment and three days of hard work. M. Dupontés arranged to have our 4000 pounds of baggage put in a special third class carriage with our "boys" in attendance and in this way saved the expedition a considerable amount of money. He personally went with us to the station to arrange for our comfort with the chef de gare, telegraphed ahead at every station upon the railroad, and gave us an open letter to all officials; in fact there was nothing which he left undone.

The railroad is a remarkable engineering achievement for it was constructed in great haste through a difficult mountainous range. Yün-nan is an exceedingly rich province and the French were quick to see the advantages of drawing its vast trade to their own seaports. The British were already making surveys to construct a railroad from Bhamo on the headwaters of the Irawadi River across Yün-nan to connect with the Yangtze, and the French were anxious to have their road in operation some time before the rival line could be completed.

Owing to its hasty construction and the heavy rainfall, or perhaps to both, the tunnels and bridges frequently cave in or are washed away and the railroad is chiefly remarkable for the number of days in the year in which it does not operate; nevertheless the French deserve great credit for their enterprise in extending their line to Yün-nan Fu over the mountains where there is a tunnel or bridge almost every mile of the way. While it was being built through the fever-stricken jungles of Tonking the coolies died like flies, and it was necessary to suspend all work during the summer months.

The scenery along the railroad is marvelous and the traveling is by no means uncomfortable, but the hotels in which one stops at night are wretched. One of our friends in Hong Kong related an amusing experience which he had at Lao-kay, the first hotel on the railroad. He asked for a bath and discovered that a tub of hot water had been prepared. He wished a cold bath, and seeing a large tank filled with cold water in the corner of the room he climbed in and was enjoying himself when the hotel proprietor suddenly rushed upstairs exclaiming, "Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, you are in the tank of drinking water."

When we arrived at Yün-nan Fu we found a surprisingly cosmopolitan community housed within its grim old walls; some were consuls, some missionaries, some salt, telegraph, or customs officials in the Chinese employ, and others represented business firms in Hong Kong , but all received us with open handed hospitality characteristic of the East.

We thought that after leaving Hong Kong our evening clothes would not again be used, but they were requisitioned every night for we were guests at dinners given by almost everyone of the foreign community. Mr. Howard Page, a representative of the Standard Oil Company, proved a most valuable friend, and through him we were able to obtain a caravan and make other arrangements for the transportation of our baggage. M. Henry Wilden, the French Consul, an ardent sportsman and a charming gentleman, took an active interest in our affairs and arranged a meeting for us with the Chinese Commissioner of Foreign Affairs. Moreover, he later transported our trunks to Hong Kong with his personal baggage and assisted us in every possible way.

We went to the Foreign Office at half past ten and were ushered into a large room where a rather imposing lunch had already been spread. The Commissioner, a fat, jolly little man, who knew a few words of French but none of English, received us in the most cordial way and immediately opened several bottles of champagne in our honor. He asked why our passports had not been visaed in Peking, and we pleased him greatly by replying that at the time we were in the capital Yün-nan was an independent province and consequently the Peking Government had not the temerity to put their stamp upon our passports.

Inasmuch as Yün-nan was infested with brigands we had expected some opposition to our plans for traveling in the interior, but none was forthcoming, and with the exception of an offer of a guard of soldiers for our trip to Ta-li Fu which we knew it would be impolitic to refuse, we left the Foreign Office with all the desired permits.

The Chinese Government appeared to be greatly interested in our zoölogical study of Yün-nan, offered to assist us in every way we could suggest, and telegraphed to every mandarin in the north and west of the province, instructing them to receive us with all honor and to facilitate our work in every way. None of the opposition which we had been led to expect developed, and it is difficult to see how we could have been more cordially received.



On August 6, we dispatched half our equipment to Ta-li Fu, and three days later we ourselves left Yün-nan Fu at eleven o'clock in the morning after an interminable wait for our caravan. Through the kindness of Mr. Page, a house boat was put at our disposal and we sailed across the upper end of the beautiful lake which lies just outside the city, and intercepted the caravan twenty-five li [Footnote: A li in this province equals one-third of an English mile.] from Yün-nan Fu.

On the way we passed a number of cormorant fishers, each with ten or a dozen birds sitting quietly upon the boat with outspread wings drying their feathers. Every bird has a ring about its neck, and is thus prevented from swallowing the fish which it catches by diving into the water.

After waiting an hour for our caravan we saw the long train of mules and horses winding up the hill toward us. There were seventeen altogether, and in the midst of them rode the cook clinging desperately with both hands to a diminutive mule, his long legs dangling and a look of utter wretchedness upon his face. Just before the caravan reached us it began to rain, and the cook laboriously pulled on a suit of yellow oilskins which we had purchased for him in Yün-nan Fu. These, together with a huge yellow hat, completed a picture which made us roar with laughter; Heller gave the caption for it when he shouted, "Here comes the 'Yellow Peril.'"

We surveyed the tiny horses with dismay. As Heller vainly tried to get his girth tight enough to keep the saddle from sliding over the animal's tail he exclaimed, "Is this a horse or a squirrel I'm trying to ride?" But it was not so bad when we finally climbed aboard and found that we did not crush the little brutes.

A seventy-pound box on each side of the saddle with a few odds and ends on top made a pack of at least one hundred and sixty pounds. This is heavy even for a large animal and for these tiny mules seemed an impossibility, but it is the usual weight, and the businesslike way in which they moved off showed that they were not overloaded.

The Yün-nan pack saddle is a remarkably ingenious arrangement. The load is strapped with a rawhide to a double A-shaped frame which fits loosely over a second saddle on the animal's back and is held in place by its own weight. If a mule falls the pack comes off and, moreover, it can be easily removed if the road is bad or whenever a stop is made. It has the great disadvantage, however, of giving the horses serious back sores which receive but scanty attention from the mafus (muleteers).

When we were fairly started upon our long ride to Ta-li Fu the time slipped by in a succession of delightful days. Since this was the main caravan route the mafus had regular stages beyond which they would not go. If we did not stop for luncheon the march could be ended early in the afternoon and we could settle ourselves for the night in a temple which always proved a veritable "haven of rest" after a long day in the saddle. A few pages from my wife's "Journal" of September fifteenth describes our camp at Lu-ho-we and our life on the road to Ta-li Fu.

We are sitting on the porch of an old, old temple. It is on a hilltop in a forest grove with the gray-walled town lying at our feet. The sun is flooding the flower-filled courtyard and throwing bars of golden light through the twisted branches of a bent old pine, over the stone well, and into the dim recesses behind the altar where a benevolent idol grins down upon us.

We have been in the saddle for eight hours and it is enchanting to rest in this peaceful, aged temple. Outside children are shouting and laughing but all is quiet here save for the drip of water in the well, and the chatter of a magpie on the pine tree. Today we made the stage in one long march and now we can rest and browse among our books or wander with a gun along the cool, tree-shaded paths.

The sun is hot at midday, although the mornings and evenings are cold, and tonight we shall build a fragrant fire of yellow pine, and talk for an hour before we go to sleep upon the porch where we can see the moon come up and the stars shining so low that they seem like tiny lanterns in the sky.

It is seven days since we left Yün-nan Fu and each night we have come to temples such as this. There is an inexpressible charm about them, lying asleep, as it were, among the trees of their courtyards, with stately, pillared porches, and picturesque gables upturned to the sky. They seem so very, very old and filled with such great calm and peace.

Sometimes they stand in the midst of a populous town and we ride through long streets between dirty houses, swarming with ragged women, filthy men, and screaming children; suddenly we come to the dilapidated entrance of our temple, pass through a courtyard, close the huge gates and are in another world.

We leave early every morning and the boys are up long before dawn. As we sleepily open our eyes we see their dark figures silhouetted against the brilliant camp fire, hear the yawns of the mafus and the contented crunching of the mules as they chew their beans.

Wu appears with a lantern and calls out the hour and before we have fully dressed the odor of coffee has found its way to the remotest corner of the temple, and a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and oatmeal is awaiting on the folding table spread with a clean white cloth. While we are eating, the beds are packed, and the loads retied, accompanied by a running fire of exhortations to the mafus who cause us endless trouble.

They are a hard lot, these mafus. Force seems to be the only thing they understand and kindness produces no results. If the march is long and we stop for tiffin it is well-nigh impossible to get them started within three hours without the aid of threats. Once after a long halt when all seemed ready, we rode ahead only to wait by the roadside for hours before the caravan arrived. As soon as we were out of sight they had begun to shoe their mules and that night we did not make our stage until long after dark.

In the morning when we see the first loads actually on the horses we ride off at the head of the caravan followed by a straggling line of mules and horses picking their way over the jagged stones of the road. It is delightful in the early morning for the air is fresh and brisk like that of October at home, but later in the day when the sun is higher it is uncomfortably hot, and we are glad to find a bit of shade where we can rest until the caravan arrives.

The roads are execrable. The Chinese have a proverb which says: "A road is good for ten years and bad for ten thousand," and this applies most excellently to those of Yün-nan. The main caravan highways are paved with huge stones to make them passable during the rainy season, but after a few years' wear the blocks become broken and irregular, the earth is washed from between them and they are upturned at impossible angles. The result is a chaotic mass which by no stretch of imagination can be called a road. Where the stones are still in place they have been worn to such glasslike smoothness by the thousands of passing mules that it is well-nigh impossible to walk upon them. As a result a caravan avoids the paving whenever it can find a path and sometimes dozens of deeply-cut trails wind over the hills beside the road.

We are seldom on level ground, for ten per cent of the entire province is mountainous and we soon lost count of the ranges which we crossed. It is slow, hard work, toiling up the steep mountainsides, but once on the ridges where the country is spread out below us like a great, green relief map, there is a wonderful exhilaration, and we climb higher with a joyous sense of freedom.

Yün-nan means "south of the cloud" and every morning the peaks about us are shrouded in fog. Sometimes the veil-like mists still float about the mountain tops when we climb into them, and we are suddenly enveloped in a wet gray blanket which sends us shivering into the coats tied to our saddles.

For centuries this road has been one of the main trade arteries through the province, and with the total lack of conservation ideas so characteristic of the Chinese, every available bit of natural forest has been cut away. As a result the mountains are desert wastes of sandstone alternating with grass-covered hills sometimes clothed with groves of pines or spruces. These trees have all been planted, and ere they have reached a height of fifteen or twenty feet will yield to the insistent demand for wood which is ever present with the Chinese.

The ignorance of the need of forest conservation is an illuminating commentary on Chinese education. Mr. William Hanna, a missionary of Ta-li Fu, told us that one day he was riding over this same road with a Chinese gentleman, a deep scholar, who was considered one of the best educated men of the province. Pointing to the barren hills washed clean of soil and deeply worn by countless floods, Mr. Hanna remarked that all this could have been prevented, and that instead of a rocky waste there might have been a fertile hillside, had the trees been left to grow.

The Chinese scholar listened in amazement to facts which every western schoolboy has learned ere he is twelve years old, but of which he was ignorant because they are not a part of Confucius' teachings. To study modern science is considered a waste of time by the orthodox Chinese for "everything good must be old," and all his life he delves into the past utterly neglectful of the present.

Every valley along the road was green with rice fields and this, together with the deforestation of the mountains, is responsible for the almost total lack of animal life. Night after night we set traps about our temple camps only to find them untouched in the morning. There were no mammals with the exception of a few red-bellied squirrels (Callosciurus erythraeus sub sp.) and now and then a tree shrew (Tupaia belangeri chinensis).

The latter is an interesting species. Although it is an Insectivore, and a relative of the tiny shrews which live in holes and under logs, it has squirrel-like habits and in appearance is like a squirrel to which it is totally unrelated. Instead of the thinly haired mouse-like tails of the ordinary shrews the tupaias have developed long bushy tails and in fact look and act so much like squirrels that it is difficult to convince the white residents of Yün-nan, who are accustomed to see them run about the hedges and walls of their courtyards that the two are quite unrelated.

The tree shrews are found only in Asia and are one of the most remarkable instances of a superficial resemblance between unrelated animals with similar habits. A study of their anatomy has revealed the fact that they represent a distinct group which is connected with the monkeys (lemurs).

Although birds were fairly abundant the species were not varied. We were about a month too early for the ducks and geese, which during the winter swarm into Yün-nan from the north, and without a dog, pheasants are difficult to get. In fact we were greatly disappointed in the game birds, for we had expected good pheasant shooting even along the road and virtually none were to be found.

The main caravan roads of Yün-nan held little of interest for us as naturalists, but as students of native customs they were fascinating, for the life of the province passed before us in panoramic completeness. Chinese villages wherever we have seen them are marvels of utter and abandoned filth and although those of Yün-nan are no exception to the rule, they are considerably better than the coast cities.

Pigs, chickens, horses and cows live in happy communion with the human inmates of the houses, the pigs especially being treated as we favor dogs at home. On the door steps children play with the swine, patting and pounding them, and one of my friends said that he had actually seen a mother bring her baby to be nursed by a sow with her family of piglets.

The natives were pleasant and friendly and seemed to be industrious. Wherever the deforestation had left sufficient soil on the lower hillsides patches of corn took the place of the former poppy fields for opium. In 1906, the Empress Dowager issued an edict prohibiting the growing of opium, and gave guarantees to the British that it would be entirely stamped out during the next ten years. Strangely enough these promises have been faithfully kept, and in Yün-nan the hillsides, which were once white with poppy blossoms, are now yellow with corn. In all our 2000 miles of riding over unfrequented trails and in the most out-of-the-way spots we found only one instance where opium was being cultivated.

The mandarin of each district accompanied by a guard of soldiers makes periodical excursions during the seasons when the poppy is in blossom, cuts down the plants if any are found, and punishes the owners. China deserves the greatest credit for so successfully dealing with a question which affects such a large part of her four hundred millions of people and which presents such unusual difficulties because of its economic importance.

Just across the frontier in Burma, opium is grown freely and much is smuggled into Yün-nan. Therefore its use has by no means been abandoned, especially in the south of the province, and in some towns it is smoked openly in the tea houses. In August, 1916, just before we reached Yün-nan Fu there was an exposé of opium smuggling which throws an illuminating side light on the corruption of some Chinese officials.

Opium can be purchased in Yün-nan Fu for two dollars (Mexican) an ounce, while in Shanghai it is worth ten dollars (Mexican). Tang (the Military Governor), the Minister of Justice, the Governor's brother and three members of Parliament had collected six hundred pounds of opium which they undertook to transfer to Shanghai.

Their request that no examination of their baggage be made by the French during their passage through Tonking was granted, and a similar favor was procured for them at Shanghai. Thus the sixty cases were safely landed, but a few hours later, through the opium combine, foreign detectives learned of the smuggling and the boxes were seized.

The Minister of Justice denied all knowledge of the opium, as did the three Parliament members, and Governor Tang was not interrogated as that would be quite contrary to the laws of Chinese etiquette; however, he will not receive reappointment when his official term expires.

As we neared Ta-li Fu, and indeed along the entire road, we were amazed at the prevalence of goitre. At a conservative estimate two out of every five persons were suffering from the disease, some having two, or even three, globules of uneven size hanging from their throats. In one village six out of seven adults were affected, but apparently children under twelve or fourteen years are free from it as we saw no evidences in either sex. Probably the disease is in a large measure due to the drinking water, for it is most prevalent in the limestone regions and seems to be somewhat localized.

Every day we passed "chairs," or as we named them, "mountain schooners," in each of which a fat Chinaman sprawled while two or four sweating coolies bore him up hill. The chair is rigged between a pair of long bamboo poles and consists of two sticks swung by ropes on which is piled a heap of bedding. Overhead a light bamboo frame supports a piece of yellow oilcloth, which completely shuts in the occupant, except from the front and rear.

The Chinese consider it undignified to walk, or even to ride, and if one is about to make an official visit nothing less than a four-man chair is required. Haste is just as much tabooed in the "front families" as physical exertion, and is utterly incomprehensible to the Chinese. Major Davies says that while he was in Tonking before the railroad to Yün-nan Fu had been constructed, M. Doumer, the Governor-General of French Indo-China, who was a very energetic man, rode to Yün-nan Fu in an extraordinarily short time. While the Europeans greatly admired his feat, the Chinese believed he must be in some difficulty from which only the immediate assistance of the Viceroy of Yün-nan could extricate him.

In Yün-nan it is necessary to carry one's own bedding for the inns supply nothing but food, and consequently when a Chinaman rides from one city to another he piles a great heap of blankets on his horse's back and climbs on top with his legs astride the animal's neck in front. The horses are trained to a rapid trot instead of a gallop, and I know of no more ridiculous sight than a Chinaman bouncing along a road on the summit of a veritable mountain of bedding with his arms waving and streamers flying in every direction. He is assisted in keeping his balance by broad brass stirrups in which he usually hooks his heels and guides his horse by means of a rawhide bridle decorated with dozens of bangles which make a comforting jingle whenever he moves.

On the sixth day out when approaching the city of Chu-hsuing Fu we took a short cut through the fields leaving the caravan to follow the main road. The trail brought us to a river about forty feet wide spanned by a bridge made from two narrow planks, with a wide median fissure. We led our horses across without trouble and Heller started to follow. He had reached the center of the bridge when his horse shied at the hole, jumped to one side, hung suspended on his belly for a moment, and toppled off into the water.

The performance had all happened behind Heller's back and when he turned about in time to see his horse diving into the river, he stood looking down at him with a most ludicrous expression of surprise and disgust, while the animal climbed out and began to graze as quietly as though nothing had happened.

Chu-hsuing was interesting as being the home of Miss Cordelia Morgan, a niece of Senator Morgan of Virginia. We found her to be a most charming and determined young woman who had established a mission station in the city under considerable difficulties. The mandarin and other officials by no means wished to have a foreign lady, alone and unattended, settle down among them and become a responsibility which might cause them endless trouble, and although she had rented a house before she arrived, the owner refused to allow her to move in.

She could get no assistance from the mandarin and was forced to live for two months in a dirty Chinese inn, swarming with vermin, until they realized that she was determined not to be driven away. She eventually obtained a house and while she considers herself comfortable, I doubt if others would care to share her life unless they had an equal amount of determination and enthusiasm.

At that time she had not placed her work under the charge of a mission board and was carrying it on independently. Until our arrival she had seen but one white person in a year and a half, was living entirely upon Chinese food, and had tasted no butter or milk in months.

We had a delightful dinner with Miss Morgan and the next morning as our caravan wound down the long hill past her house she stood at the window to wave good-by. She kept her head behind the curtains, and doubtless if we could have seen her face we would have found tears upon it, for the evening with another woman of her kind had brought to her a breath of the old life which she had resolutely forsaken and which so seldom penetrated to her self-appointed exile.

On our ninth day from Yün-nan Fu we had a welcome bit of excitement. We were climbing a long mountain trail to a pass over eight thousand feet high and were near the summit when a boy dashed breathlessly up to the caravan, jabbering wildly in Chinese. It required fifteen minutes of questioning before we finally learned that bandits had attacked a big caravan less than a mile ahead of us and were even then ransacking the loads.

He said that there were two hundred and fifty of them and that they had killed two mafus; almost immediately a second gesticulating Chinaman appeared and gave the number as three hundred and fifty and the dead as five. Allowing for the universal habit of exaggeration we felt quite sure that there were not more than fifty, and subsequently learned that forty was the correct number and that no one had been killed.

Our caravan was in a bad place to resist an attack but we got out our rifles and made for a village at the top of the pass. There were not more than a half dozen mud houses and in the narrow street between them perfect bedlam reigned. Several small caravans had halted to wait for us, and men, horses, loads, and chairs were packed and jammed together so tightly that it seemed impossible ever to extricate them. Our arrival added to the confusion, but leaving the mafus to scream and chatter among themselves, we scouted ahead to learn the true condition of affairs.

Almost within sight we found the caravan which had been robbed. Paper and cloth were strewn about, loads overturned, and loose mules wandered over the hillside. The frightened mafus were straggling back and told us that about forty bandits had suddenly surrounded the caravan, shooting and brandishing long knives. Instantly the mafus had run for their lives leaving the brigands to rifle the packs unmolested. The goods chiefly belonged to the retiring mandarin of Li-chiang, and included some five thousand dollars worth of jade and gold dust, all of which was taken.

Yün-nan, like most of the outlying provinces of China, is infested with brigands who make traveling very unsafe. There are, of course, organized bands of robbers at all times, but these have been greatly augmented since the rebellion by dismissed soldiers or deserters who have taken to brigandage as the easiest means to avoid starvation.

The Chinese Government is totally unable to cope with the situation and makes only half-hearted attempts to punish even the most flagrant robberies, so that unguarded caravans carrying valuable material which arrive at their destination unmolested consider themselves very lucky.

So far as our expedition was concerned we did not feel great apprehension for it was generally known that we carried but little money and our equipment, except for guns, could not readily be disposed of. Throughout the entire expedition we paid our mafus and servants a part of their wages in advance when they were engaged, and arranged to have money sent by the mandarins or the British American Tobacco Co., to some large town which would be reached after several months. There the balance on salaries was paid and we carried with us only enough money for our daily needs.

Before we left Yün-nan Fu we were assured by the Foreign Office that we would be furnished with a guard of soldiers—an honor few foreigners escape! The first day out we had four, all armed with umbrellas! These accompanied us to the first camp where they delivered their official message to the yamen and entrusted us to the care of others for our next day's journey.

Sometimes they were equipped with guns of the vintage of 1872, but their cartridges were seldom of the same caliber as the rifles and in most cases the ubiquitous umbrella was their only weapon. Just what good they would be in a real attack it is difficult to imagine, except to divert attention by breaking the speed limits in running away.

Several times in the morning we believed we had escaped them but they always turned up in an hour or two. They were not so much a nuisance as an expense, for custom requires that each be paid twenty cents (Mexican) a day both going and returning. They are of some use in lending an official aspect to an expedition and in requisitioning anything which may be needed; also they act as an insurance policy, for if a caravan is robbed a claim can be entered against the government, whereas if the escort is refused the traveler has no redress.

It is amusing and often irritating to see the cavalier way in which these men treat other caravans or the peasants along the road. Waving their arms and shouting oaths they shoo horses, mules or chairs out of the way regardless of the confusion into which the approaching caravan may be thrown. They must also be closely watched for they are none too honest and are prone to rely upon the moral support of foreigners to take whatever they wish without the formality of payment.

We were especially careful to respect the property on which we camped and to be just in all our dealings with the natives, but it was sometimes difficult to prevent the mafus or soldiers from tearing down fences for firewood or committing similar depredations. Wherever such acts were discovered we made suitable payment and punished the offenders by deducting a part of their wages. Foreigners cannot respect too carefully the rights of the peasants, for upon their conduct rests the reception which will be accorded to all others who follow in their footsteps.



On Friday, September 23, we were at Chou Chou and camped in a picturesque little temple on the outskirts of the town. As the last stage was only six hours we spent half the morning in taking moving pictures of the caravan and left for Ta-li at eleven-thirty after an early tiffin.

About two o'clock in the afternoon we reached Hsia-kuan, a large commercial town at the lower end of the lake. Its population largely consists of merchants and it is by all means the most important business place of interior Yün-nan; Ta-li, eight miles away, is the residence and official city.

At Hsia-kuan we called upon the salt commissioner, Mr. Lui, to whom Mr. Bode, the salt inspector at Yün-nan Fu, had very kindly telegraphed money for my account, and after the usual tea and cigarettes we went on to Ta-li Fu over a perfectly level paved road, which was so slippery that it was well-nigh impossible for either horse or man to move over it faster than a walk.

This was the hottest day of our experience in Northern Yün-nan, the thermometer registering 85°+ in the shade, which is the usual midsummer temperature, but the moment the sun dropped behind the mountains it was cool enough for one to enjoy a fire. Even in the winter it is never very cold and its delightful summer should make Northern Yün-nan a wonderful health resort for the residents of fever-stricken Burma and Tonking.

We rode toward Ta-li with the beautiful lake on our right hand and on the other the Ts'ang Shan mountains which rise to a height of fourteen thousand feet. As we approached the city we could see dimly outlined against the foothills the slender shafts of three ancient pagodas. They were erected to the feng-shui, the spirits of the "earth, wind, and water," and for fifteen hundred years have stood guard over the stone graves which, in countless thousands, are spread along the foot of the mountains like a vast gray blanket. In the late afternoon sunlight the walls of the city seemed to recede before us and the picturesque gate loomed shadowy and unreal even when we passed through its gloomy arch and clattered up the stone-paved street.

We soon discovered the residence of Mr. H. G. Evans, agent of the British American Tobacco Company, to whose care our first caravan had been consigned, and he very hospitably invited us to remain with him while we were in Ta-li Fu. This was only the beginning of Mr. Evans' assistance to the Expedition, for he acted as its banker throughout our stay in Yün-nan, cashing checks and transferring money for us whenever we needed funds.

The British American Tobacco Company and the Standard Oil Company of New York are veritable "oases in the desert" for travelers because their agencies are found in the most out-of-the-way spots in Asia and their employees are always ready to extend the cordial hospitality of the East to wandering foreigners.

Besides Mr. Evans the white residents of Ta-li Fu include the Reverend William J. Hanna, his wife and two other ladies, all of the China Inland Mission. Mr. Hanna is doing a really splendid work, especially along educational and medical lines. He has built a beautiful little chapel, a large school, and a dispensary in connection with his house, where he and his wife are occupied every morning treating the minor ills of the natives, Christian and heathen alike.

Ta-li Fu was the scene of tremendous slaughter at the time of the Mohammedan war, when the Chinese captured the city through the treachery of its commander and turned the streets to rivers of blood. The Mohammedans were almost exterminated, and the ruined stone walls testify to the completeness of the Chinese devastation.

The mandarin at Ta-li Fu was good-natured but dissipated and corrupt. He called upon us the evening of our arrival and almost immediately asked if we had any shotgun cartridges. He remarked that he had a gun but no shells, and as we did not offer to give him any he continued to hint broadly at every opportunity.

The mandarins of lower rank often buy their posts and depend upon what they can make in "squeeze" from the natives of their district for reimbursement and a profit on their investment. In almost every case which is brought to them for adjustment the decision is withheld until the magistrate has learned which of the parties is prepared to offer the highest price for a settlement in his favor. The Chinese peasant, accepting this as the established custom, pays the bribe without a murmur if it is not too exorbitant and, in fact, would be exceedingly surprised if "justice" were dispensed in any other way.

My personal relations with the various mandarins whom I was constantly required to visit officially were always of the pleasantest and I was treated with great courtesy. It was apparent wherever we were in China that there was a total lack of anti-foreign feeling in both the peasant and official classes and except for the brigands, who are beyond the law, undoubtedly white men can travel in perfect safety anywhere in the republic. Before my first official visit Wu gave me a lesson in etiquette. The Chinese are exceedingly punctilious and it is necessary to conform to their standards of politeness for they do not realize, or accept in excuse, the fact that Western customs differ from their own.

At the end of the reception room in every yamen is a raised platform on which the visitor sits at the left hand of the mandarin; it would be exceedingly rude for a magistrate to seat the caller on his right hand. Tea is always served immediately but is not supposed to be tasted until the official does so himself; the cup must then be lifted to the lips with both hands. Usually when the magistrate sips his tea it is a sign that the interview is ended. When leaving, the mandarin follows his visitor to the doorway of the outer court, while the latter continually bows and protests asking him not to come so far.

Ta-li Fu and Hsia-kuan are important fur markets and we spent some time investigating the shops. One important find was the panda (Aelurus fulgens). The panda is an aberrant member of the raccoon family but looks rather like a fox; in fact the Chinese call it the "fire fox" because of its beautiful, red fur. Pandas were supposed to be exceedingly rare and we could hardly believe it possible when we saw dozens of coats made from their skins hanging in the fur shops.

Skins of the huge red-brown flying squirrel, Petaruista yunnanensis, were also used for clothing and the abundance of this animal was almost as great a surprise as the finding of the pandas. This is often true in the case of supposedly rare species. A few specimens may be obtained from the extreme limits of its range, or from a locality where it really is rare, and for years it may be almost unique in museum collections but eventually the proper locality may be visited and the animals found to be abundant.

We saw several skins of the beautiful cat (Felis temmicki) which, with the snow leopard (Felis uncia), it was said came from Tibet. Civets, bears, foxes, and small cats were being used extensively for furs and pangolins could be purchased in the medicine shops. The scales of the pangolin are considered to be of great value in the treatment of certain diseases and the skins are usually sold by the pound as are the horns of deer, wapiti, gorals, and serows.

Almost all of the fossil animals which have been obtained in China by foreigners have been purchased in apothecary shops. If a Chinaman discovers a fossil bed he guards it zealously for it represents an actual gold mine to him. The bones are ground into a fine powder, mixed with an acid, and a phosphate obtained which in reality has a certain value as a tonic. When a considerable amount of faith and Chinese superstition is added its efficacy assumes double proportions.

Every year a few tiger skins find their way to Hsia-kuan from the southern part of the province along the Tonking border, but the good ones are quickly sold at prices varying from twenty-five to fifty dollars (Mexican). Ten dollars is the usual price for leopard skins.

Marco Polo visited Ta-li Fu in the thirteenth century and, among other things, he speaks of the fine horses from this part of the province. We were surprised to find that the animals are considerably larger and more heavily built than those of Yün-nan Fu and appear to be better in every way. A good riding horse can be purchased for seventy-five dollars (Mexican) but mules are worth about one hundred and fifty dollars because they are considered better pack animals.

On the advice of men who had traveled much in the interior of Yün-nan we hired our caravan and riding animals instead of buying them outright, and subsequent experience showed the wisdom of this course. Saddle ponies, which are used only for short trips about the city, cannot endure continual traveling over the execrable roads of the interior where often it is impossible to feed them properly. If an entire caravan were purchased the leader of the expedition would have unceasing trouble with the mafus to insure even ordinary care of the animals, an opportunity would be given for endless "squeeze" in the purchase of food, and there are other reasons too numerous to mention why in this province the plan is impracticable.

However, the caravan ponies do try one's patience to the limit. They are trained only to follow a leader, and if one happens to be behind another horse it is well-nigh impossible to persuade it to pass. Beat or kick the beast as one will, it only backs up or crowds closely to the horse in front. On the first day out Heller, who was on a particularly bad animal, when trying to pass one of us began to cavort about like a circus rider, prancing from side to side and backward but never going forward. We shouted that we would wait for him to go on but he replied helplessly, "I can't, this horse isn't under my management," and we found very soon that our animals were not under our management either!

In a town near Ta-li Fu we were in front of the caravan with Wu and Heller: Wu stopped to buy a basket of mushrooms but his horse refused to move ahead. Beat as he would, the animal only backed in a circle, ours followed, and in a few moments we were packed together so tightly that it was impossible even to dismount. There we sat, helpless, to the huge delight of the villagers until rescued by a mafu. As soon as he led Wu's horse forward the others proceeded as quietly as lambs.

We paid forty cents (Mexican) a day for each animal while traveling, and fifteen or twenty cents when in camp, but the rate varies somewhat in different parts of the province, and in the west and south, along the Burma border fifty cents is the usual price. When a caravan is engaged the necessary mafus are included and they buy food for themselves and beans and hay for the animals.

Ever since leaving Yün-nan Fu the cook we engaged at Paik-hoi had been a source of combined irritation and amusement. He was a lanky, effeminate gentleman who never before had ridden a horse, and who was physically and mentally unable to adapt himself to camp life. After five months in the field he appeared to be as helpless when the caravan camped for the night as when we first started, and he would stand vacantly staring until someone directed him what to do. But he was a good cook, when he wished to exert himself, and had the great asset of knowing a considerable amount of English. While we were in Ta-li Fu Mr. Evans overheard him relating his experiences on the road to several of the other servants. "Of course," said the cook, "it is a fine way to see the country, but the riding! My goodness, that's awful! After the third day I didn't know whether to go on or turn back—I was so sore I couldn't sit down even on a chair to say nothing of a horse!"

He had evidently fully made up his mind not to "see the country" that way for the day after we left Ta-li Fu en route to the Tibetan frontier he became violently ill. Although we could find nothing the matter with him he made such a good case for himself that we believed he really was quite sick and treated him accordingly. The following morning, however, he sullenly refused to proceed, and we realized that his illness was of the mind rather than the body. As he had accepted two months' salary in advance and had already sent it to his wife in Paik-hoi, we were in a position to use a certain amount of forceful persuasion which entirely accomplished its object and illness did not trouble him thereafter.

The loss of a cook is a serious matter to a large expedition. Good meals and varied food must be provided if the personnel is to work at its highest efficiency and cooking requires a vast amount of thought and time. In Yün-nan natives who can cook foreign food are by no means easy to find and when our Paik-hoi gentleman finally left us upon our return to Ta-li Fu we were fortunate in obtaining an exceedingly competent man to take his place through the good offices of Mr. Hanna.



We left a part of our outfit with Mr. Evans at Ta-li Fu and with a new caravan of twenty-five animals traveled northward for six days to Li-chiang Fu. By taking a small road we hoped to find good collecting in the pine forests three days from Ta-li, but instead there was a total absence of animal life. The woods were beautiful, park-like stretches which in a country like California would be full of game, but here were silent and deserted. During the fourth and fifth days we were still in the forests, but on the sixth we crossed a pass 10,000 feet high and descended abruptly into a long marshy plain where at the far end were the gray outlines of Li-chiang dimly visible against the mountains.

Wu and I galloped ahead to find a temple for our camp, leaving Heller and my wife to follow. A few pages from her journal tell of their entry into the city.

We rode along a winding stone causeway and halted on the outskirts of the town to wait until the caravan arrived. Neither Roy nor Wu was in sight but we expected that the mafus would ask where they had gone and follow, for of course we could not speak a word of the language. Already there was quite a sensation as we came down the street, for our sudden appearance seemed to have stupefied the people with amazement. One old lady looked at me with an indescribable expression and uttered what sounded exactly like a long-drawn "Mon Dieu" of disagreeable surprise.

I tried smiling at them but they appeared too astonished to appreciate our friendliness and in return merely stared with open mouths and eyes. We halted and immediately the street was blocked by crowds of men, women, and children who poured out of the houses, shops, and cross-streets to gaze in rapt attention. When the caravan arrived we moved on again expecting that the mafus had learned where Roy had gone, but they seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the narrow winding streets. Even though we did not find a camping place we afforded the natives intense delight.

I felt as though I were the chief actor in a circus parade at home, but the most remarkable attraction there could not have equaled our unparalleled success in Li-chiang. On the second excursion through the town we passed down a cross-street, and suddenly from a courtyard at the right we heard feminine voices speaking English.

"It's a girl. No, it's a boy. No, no, can't you see her hair, it's a girl!" Just then we caught sight of three ladies, unmistakably foreigners although dressed in Chinese costume. They were Mrs. A. Kok, wife of the resident Pentecostal Missionary, and two assistants, who rushed into the street as soon as they had determined my sex and literally "fell upon my neck." They had not seen a white woman since their arrival there four years ago and it seemed to them that I had suddenly dropped from the sky.

While we were talking Wu appeared to guide us to the camp. They had chosen a beautiful temple with a flower-filled courtyard on the summit of a hill overlooking the city. It was wonderfully clean and when our beds, tables, and chairs were spread on the broad stone porch it seemed like a real home.

The next days were busy ones for us all, Roy and Heller setting traps, and I working at my photography. We let it be known that we would pay well for specimens, and there was an almost uninterrupted procession of men and boys carrying long sticks, on which were strung frogs, rats, toads, and snakes. They would simply beam with triumph and enthusiasm. Our fame spread and more came, bringing the most ridiculous tame things—pigeons, maltese cats, dogs, white rabbits, caged birds, and I even believe we might have purchased a girl baby or two, for mothers stood about with little brown kiddies on their backs as though they really would like to offer them to us but hardly dared.

The temple priest was a good looking, smooth-faced chap, and hidden under his coat he brought dozens of skins. I believe that his religious vows did not allow him to handle animals—openly—and so he would beckon Roy into the darkness of the temple with a most mysterious air, and would extract all sorts of things from his sleeves just like a sleight-of-hand performer. He was a rich man when we left!

The people are mostly tribesmen—Mosos, Lolos, Tibetans, and many others. The girls wear their hair "bobbed off" in front and with a long plait in back. They wash their hair once—on their wedding day—and then it is wrapped up in turbans for the rest of their lives. The Tibetan women dress their hair in dozens of tiny braids, but I don't believe there is any authority that they ever wash it, or themselves either.

Li-chiang was our first collecting camp and we never had a better one. On the morning after our arrival Heller found mammals in half his traps, and in the afternoon we each put out a line of forty traps which brought us fifty mammals of eleven species. This was a wonderful relief after the many days of travel through country devoid of animal life.

Our traps contained shrews of two species, meadow voles, Asiatic white-footed mice, spiny mice, rats, squirrels, and tree shrews. The small mammals were exceedingly abundant and easy to catch, but after the first day we began to have difficulty with the natives who stole our traps. We usually marked them with a bit of cotton, and the boys would follow an entire line down a hedge, taking every one. Sometimes they even brought specimens to us for sale which we knew had been caught in our stolen traps!

The traps were set under logs and stumps and in the grass where we found the "runways" or paths which mice, rats and voles often make. These animals begin to move about just after dark, and we usually would inspect our traps with a lantern about nine o'clock in the evening. This not only gave the trap a double chance to be filled but we also secured perfect specimens, for such species as mice and shrews are cannibalistic, and almost every night, if the specimens were not taken out early in the evening, several would be partly eaten.

Small mammals are often of much greater interest and importance scientifically than large ones, for, especially among the Insectivores, there are many primitive forms which are apparently of ancestral stock and throw light on the evolutionary history of other living groups.

Li-chiang is a fur market of considerable importance for the Tibetans bring down vast quantities of skins for sale and trade. Lambs, goats, foxes, cats, civets, pandas, and flying squirrels hang in the shops and there are dozens of fur dressers who do really excellent tanning.

This city is a most interesting place especially on market day, for its inhabitants represent many different tribes with but comparatively few Chinese. By far the greatest percentage of natives are the Mosos who are semi-Tibetan in their life and customs. They were originally an independent race who ruled a considerable part of northern Yün-nan, and Li-chiang was their ancient capital. To the effeminate and "highly civilized" Chinese they are "barbarians," but we found them to be simple, honest and wholly delightful people. Many of those whom we met later had never seen a white woman, and yet their inherent decency was in the greatest contrast to that of the Chinese who consider themselves so immeasurably their superior.

The Mosos have large herds of sheep and cattle, and this is the one place in the Orient except in large cities along the coast, where we could obtain fresh milk and butter. As with the Tibetans, buttered tea and tsamba (parched oatmeal) are the great essentials, but they also grow quantities of delicious vegetables and fruit. Buttered tea is prepared by churning fresh butter into hot tea until the two have become well mixed. It is then thickened with finely ground tsamba until a ball is formed which is eaten with the fingers. The combination is distinctly good when the ingredients are fresh, but if the butter happens to be rancid the less said of it the better.

The natives of this region are largely agriculturists and raise great quantities of squash, turnips, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, onions, corn, peas, beans, oranges, pears, persimmons and nuts. While traveling we filled our saddle pockets with pears and English walnuts or chestnuts and could replenish our stock at almost any village along the road.

Everything was absurdly cheap. Eggs were usually about eight cents (Mexican) a dozen, and we could always purchase a chicken for an empty tin can, or two for a bottle. In fact, the latter was the greatest desideratum and when offers of money failed to induce a native to pose for the camera a bottle nearly always would decide matters in our favor.

In Li-chiang we learned that there was good shooting only twelve miles north of the city on the Snow Mountain range, the highest peak of which rises 18,000 feet above the sea. We left a part of our outfit at Mr. Kok's house and engaged a caravan of seventeen mules to take us to the hunting grounds. Mr. Kok assisted us in numberless ways while we were in the vicinity of Li-chiang and in other parts of the country. He took charge of all our mail, sending it to us by runners, loaned us money when it was difficult to get cash from Ta-li Fu and helped us to engage servants and caravans.

It had rained almost continually for five days and a dense gray curtain of fog hung far down in the valley, but on the morning of October 11 we awoke to find ourselves in another world. We were in a vast amphitheater of encircling mountains, white almost to their bases, rising ridge on ridge, like the foamy billows of a mighty ocean. At the north, silhouetted against the vivid blue of a cloudless sky, towered the great Snow Mountain, its jagged peaks crowned with gold where the morning sun had kissed their summits. We rode toward it across a level rock-strewn plain and watched the fleecy clouds form, and float upward to weave in and out or lose themselves in the vast snow craters beside the glacier. It was an inspiration, that beautiful mountain, lying so white and still in its cradle of dark green trees. Each hour it seemed more wonderful, more dominating in its grandeur, and we were glad to be of the chosen few to look upon its sacred beauty.

In the early afternoon we camped in a tiny temple which nestled into a grove of spruce trees on the outskirts of a straggling village. To the north the Snow Mountain rose almost above us, and on the east and south a grassy rock-strewn plain rolled away in gentle undulations to a range of hills which jutted into the valley like a great recumbent dragon.

A short time after our camp was established we had a visit from an Austrian botanist, Baron Haendel-Mazzetti, who had been in the village for two weeks. He had come to Yün-nan for the Vienna Museum before the war, expecting to remain a year, but already had been there three. Surrounded as he was by Tibet, Burma, and Tonking, his only possible exit was by way of the four-month overland journey to Shanghai. He had little money and for two years had been living on Chinese food. He dined with us in the evening, and his enjoyment of our coffee, bread, kippered herring, and other canned goods was almost pathetic.

A week after our arrival Baron Haendel-Mazzetti left for Yün-nan Fu and eventually reached Shanghai which, however, became a closed port to him upon China's entry into the European war. It is to be hoped that his collections, which must be of great scientific value and importance, have arrived at a place of safety long ere this book issues from the press.